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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7ad1c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51238 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51238) diff --git a/old/51238-0.txt b/old/51238-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 045012d..0000000 --- a/old/51238-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8290 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Pride of Jennico, by Agnes Castle and -Egerton Castle - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: The Pride of Jennico - Being a Memoir of Captain Basil Jennico - - -Author: Agnes Castle and Egerton Castle - - - -Release Date: February 17, 2016 [eBook #51238] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRIDE OF JENNICO*** - - -E-text prepared by Giovanni Fini, David Edwards, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/prideofjennicobe00castrich - - -Transcriber’s note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). - - - - - -THE PRIDE OF JENNICO - - -[Illustration: logo] - - -THE PRIDE OF JENNICO - -Being a Memoir of Captain Basil Jennico - -by - -AGNES AND EGERTON CASTLE - - - - - - - -New York -The Macmillan Company -London: Macmillan & Co., Ltd. -1899 - -All rights reserved - -Copyright, 1897, 1898, -By The Macmillan Company. - -Set up and electrotyped February, 1898. Reprinted February, April, June -three times, July, September, October, December, twice, 1898. - -Norwood Press -J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith -Norwood, Mass. U.S.A. - - - - - CONTENTS - - PART I - - Page - - CHAPTER I. MEMOIR OF CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO (BEGUN, - APPARENTLY IN GREAT TROUBLE AND STRESS OF - MIND, AT THE CASTLE OF TOLLENDHAL, IN MORAVIA, - ON THE THIRD DAY OF THE GREAT STORM, LATE IN - THE YEAR 1771) 1 - - CHAPTER II. BASIL JENNICO’S MEMOIR CONTINUED 23 - - CHAPTER III. 45 - - CHAPTER IV. 59 - - CHAPTER V. 72 - - CHAPTER VI. 90 - - CHAPTER VII. 101 - - CHAPTER VIII. 113 - - CHAPTER IX. 124 - - - PART II - - CHAPTER I. MEMOIR OF CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO (A PORTION, - WRITTEN EARLY IN THE YEAR 1772, IN HIS ROOMS - AT GRIFFIN’S, CUR ZON STREET) 143 - - CHAPTER II. CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO’S MEMOIR CONTINUED 173 - - CHAPTER III. CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO’S MEMOIR, RESUMED THREE - MONTHS LATER, AT FARRINGDON DANE 183 - - CHAPTER IV. NARRATIVE OF AN EPISODE AT WHITE’S CLUB, IN - WHICH CAPTAIN JENNICO WAS CONCERNED, SET FORTH - FROM CONTEMPORARY ACCOUNTS 201 - - CHAPTER V. NARRATIVE OF AN EPISODE AT WHITE’S CONTINUED 218 - - - PART III - - CHAPTER I. MEMOIR OF CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO - (RESUMED IN THE SPRING OF THE YEAR 1773) 230 - - CHAPTER II. 252 - - CHAPTER III. 266 - - CHAPTER IV. 287 - - CHAPTER V. 306 - - CHAPTER VI. 319 - - CHAPTER VII. 332 - - - - - THE PRIDE OF JENNICO - - - - -PART I - - - - -CHAPTER I - - MEMOIR OF CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO (BEGUN, APPARENTLY IN GREAT TROUBLE - AND STRESS OF MIND, AT THE CASTLE OF TOLLENDHAL, IN MORAVIA, ON THE - THIRD DAY OF THE GREAT STORM, LATE IN THE YEAR 1771) - - -AS the wind rattles the casements with impotent clutch, howls down -the stair-turret with the voice of a despairing soul, creeps in long -irregular waves between the tapestries and the granite walls of my -chamber and wantons with the flames of logs and candles; knowing, as I -do, that outside the snow is driven relentlessly by the gale, and that -I can hope for no relief from the company of my wretched self,—for -they who have learnt the temper of these wild mountain winds tell me -the storm must last at least three days more in its fury,—I have -bethought me, to keep from going melancholy crazed altogether, to set -me some regular task to do. - -And what can more fitly occupy my poor mind than the setting forth, -as clearly as may be, the divers events that have brought me to this -strange plight in this strange place? although, I fear me, it may not -in the end be over-clear, for in sooth I cannot even yet see a way -through the confusion of my thoughts. Nay, I could at times howl in -unison with yonder dismal wind for mad regret; and at times again rage -and hiss and break myself, like the fitful gale, against the walls of -this desolate house for anger at my fate and my folly! - -But since I can no more keep my thoughts from wandering to her and -wondering upon her than I can keep my hot blood from running—running -with such swiftness that here, alone in the wide vaulted room, with -blasts from the four corners of the earth playing a very demon’s dance -around me, I am yet all of a fever heat—I will try whether, by laying -bare to myself all I know of her and of myself, all I surmise and guess -of the parts we acted towards each other in this business, I may not -at least come to some understanding, some decision, concerning the -manner in which, as a man, I should comport myself in my most singular -position. - -Having reached thus far in his writing, the scribe after shaking the -golden dust of the pounce box over his page paused, musing for a -moment, loosening with unconscious fingers the collar of his coat from -his neck and gazing with wide grey eyes at the dancing flames of the -logs, and the little clouds of ash that ever and anon burst from the -hearth with a spirt when particles of driven snow found their way down -the chimney. Presently the pen resumed its travels: - - * * * * * - -Everything began, of course, through my great-uncle Jennico’s -legacy. Do I regret it? I have sometimes cursed it. Nevertheless, -although tossed between conflicting regrets and yearnings, I cannot -in conscience wish it had not come to pass. Let me be frank. Bitter -and troubling is my lot in the midst of my lonely splendour; but -through the mist which seems in my memory to separate the old life -from the new, those days of yesteryear (for all their carelessness -and fancy-freedom) seem now strangely dull. Yes, it is almost a year -already that it came, this legacy, by which a young Englishman, serving -in his Royal and Imperial Majesty’s Chevau-Legers, was suddenly -transformed, from an obscure Rittmeister with little more worldly goods -than his pay, into one of the richest landowners in the broad Empire, -the master of an historic castle on the Bohemian Marches. - -It was indeed an odd turn of fortune’s wheel. But doubtless there is a -predestination in such things, unknown to man. - -My great-uncle had always taken a peculiar interest in me. Some fifty -years before my birth, precluded by the religion of our family from -any hope of advancement in the army of our own country, he had himself -entered the Imperial service; and when I had reached the age of -manhood, he insisted on my being sent to him in Vienna to enter upon -the same career. To him I owe my rapid promotion after the Turkish -campaign of 1769. But I question, for all his influence at Court, -whether I should have benefited otherwise than through his advice and -interest, had it not been for an unforeseen series of moves on the part -of my elder brother at home. - -One fine day it was announced to us that this latter had been offered -and had accepted a barony in the peerage of Great Britain. At first -it did not transpire upon what grounds a Catholic gentleman should -be so honoured, and we were obliged, my uncle and I, to content -ourselves with the impossible explanation that “Dear Edmund’s value -and abilities and the great services he had rendered by his exertions -in the last Suffolk Elections had been brought to the notice of his -Majesty, who was thus graciously pleased to show his appreciation of -the same.” - -Our good mother (who would not be the true woman she is did she not set -a value on the honours of this world), my excellent brother, and, of -course, his ambitious lady, all agreed that it was a mighty fine thing -for Sir Edmund Jennico to become My Lord Rainswick, and they sent us -many grandiloquent missives to that effect. - -But with my great-uncle things were vastly different. To all appearance -he had grown, during the course of his sixty odd years in the Imperial -service, into a complete unmitigated foreigner, who spoke English like -a German, if, indeed, the extraordinary jargon he used (under the -impression that it was his mother tongue) could be so called. As a -matter of fact it would have been difficult to say what tongue was my -great-uncle’s own. It was not English nor French—not even the French -of German courts—nor true German, but the oddest compound of all -three, with a strong peppering of Slovack or Hungarian according as the -country in which he served suggested the adjunction. A very persuasive -compound it proved, however, when he took up his commanding voice, -poor man! But, foreigner as he was, covered as his broad chest might be -with foreign orders, freely as he had spent his life’s energy in the -pay of a foreign monarch, my great-uncle Jennico had too much English -pride of race, too much of the old Jennico blood (despite this same had -been so often let for him by Bavarian and Hanoverian, Prussian, French, -and Turk), to brook in peace what he considered a slight upon his grand -family traditions. - -Now this was precisely what my brother had committed. In the first -place he had married a lady who, I hear, is amazingly handsome, and -sufficiently wealthy, but about whose lineage it seems altogether -unadvisable to seek clear information. Busy as he was in the midst of -his last campaign, my great-uncle (who even in the wilds of Bulgaria -seemed to keep by some marvellous means in touch with what moves were -being played by the family in distant Suffolk) nevertheless had the -matter probed. And the account he received was not of a satisfactory -nature. I fear me that those around him then did not find the -fierceness of his rule softened by the unwelcome news from that distant -island of Britain. - -The Jennicos, although they had been degraded (so my uncle maintained) -by the gift of a paltry baronetcy at the hands of Charles II., as a -reward for their bleeding and losses in the Royal cause, were, he -declared, of a stock with which blood-royal itself might be allied -without derogation. The one great solace of his active life was a -recapitulation of the deeds, real or legendary, that, since the landing -of the Danes on Saxon soil, had marked the passage through history of -those thirty-one authentic generations, the twenty-ninth of which was -so worthily represented by himself. The worship of the name was with -him an absolute craze. - -It is undoubtedly to that craze that I owe my accession of fortune—ay, -and my present desolation of heart.... - -But to resume. When, therefore, already dissatisfied with my brother’s -alliance, he heard that the head of the family proposed to engraft upon -it a different name—a _soi-disant_ superior title—his wrath was loud -and deep: - -“Eh quoi! mille millions de Donnerblitzen! what the Teufel idiot think? -what you think?” - -I was present when the news arrived; it was in his chancellerie on the -Josefsplatz at Vienna. I shall not lightly forget the old man’s saffron -face. - -“Does that Schaffkopf brother of yours not verstand what Jennico to -be means? what thinkest thou? would I be what I am, were it not that I -have ever known, boy, what I was geborn to when I was Jennico geborn? -How comes it that I am what I here am? How is it gecome, thinkest -thou, that I have myself risen to the highest honour in the Empire, -that I am field-marshal this day, above the heads of your princekins, -your grand-dukeleins, highnesses, and serenities? Dummes Vieh!”—with -a parenthetical shake of his fist at the open paper on his desk—“how -is it gecome that I wedded la belle Héritière des Woschutzski, the -most beautiful woman in Silesia, the richest, pardi! the noblest?” -And his Excellency (methinks I see him now) turned to me with sudden -solemnity: “You will answer me,” he said in an altered voice, “you will -answer me (because you are a fool youth), that I have become great -general because I am the bravest soldier, the cleverest commander, of -all the Imperial troops; that I to myself have won the lady for whom -Transparencies had sued in vain because of being the most beautiful man -in the whole Kaiserlich service.” - - * * * * * - -Here the younger Jennico, for all the vexation of spirit which had -suggested the labour of his systematic narrative as a distraction, -could not help smiling to himself, as, with pen raised towards the -standish, he paused for a moment to recall on how many occasions he had -heard this explanation of the Field-Marshal’s success in life. Then the -grating of the quill began afresh: - - * * * * * - -When my venerable relative came to this, I, being an irreverent young -dog, had much ado to keep myself from a great yell of laughter. He was -pleased to remark, latterly, in an approving mood, that I was growing -every day into a more living image of what he remembered himself to -have been in the good times when he wore a cornet’s uniform. I should -therefore have felt delicately flattered, but the fact is that the -tough old soldier, if in the divers accidents of war he had gathered -much glory, had not come off without a fine assortment of disfiguring -wounds. The ball that passed through his cheeks at Leuthen had removed -all his most ornamental teeth, and had given the oddest set to the -lower part of his countenance. It was after Kolin that, the sight -of his left eye being suppressed by the butt end of a lance, he had -started that black patch which imparted a peculiar ferocity to his -aspect, although it seemed, it is true, to sharpen the piercing -qualities of the remaining orb. At Hochkirch, where he culled some of -his greenest laurels, a Prussian bullet in his knee forced on him the -companionship of a stout staff for ever afterwards. He certainly had -been known in former days as _le beau Jennico_, but of its original -cast of feature it is easy to conceive that, after these repeated -finishing touches, his countenance bore but little trace. - -“But no,” the dear old man would say, baring his desolate lower tusks -at me, and fixing me with his wild-boar eye, “it is not to my beauty, -Kerl, not to my courage, Kerl, that I owe success, but because I am -geborn Jennico. When man Jennico geborn is, man is geborn to all the -rest—to the beauty, to the bravery. When I wooed your late dead tante, -they, mere ignorant Poles, said to me: ’It is well. You are honoured. -We know you honourable; but are you born? To wed a Countess Woschutzski -one must be born, one must show, honoured sir,’ they said, ’at least -seize quartiers, attested in due proper form.’ - -“‘Eh!’ said I, ’is that all? See you, you shall have sixteen -quarterings. Sixteen quarterings? Bah! You shall have sixteen -quarterings beyond that, and then sixteen again; and you shall then -learn what it is called to be called Jennico!’—Potztausend!—And -I simply wrote to the Office of Heralds in London, what man calls -College of Arms, for them to look up the records of Jennico and draw -out a right proper pedigree of the familie, spare no cost, right up -to the date of King Knut! Eh? Oh, ei, ei! Kerlchen! You should have -seen the roll of parchment that was in time gesendt—_Teremtété!_ and -_les yeux que fit monsieur mon beau-père_ [my excellent great-uncle -said _mon peau-bère_] when they were geopened to what it means to be -well-born English! A well-born man never knows his blood as he should, -until he sets himself to trace it through all the veins. Blood-royal, -yunker, blood-royal! Once Danish, two times Plantagenet, and once -Stuart, but that a strong dose—he-he, ei, ei! The Merry Monarch, as -the school-books say, had wide paternity, though—verstehts sich—his -daughter (who my grossmutter became) was noble also by her mother. Up -it goes high, weit. Thou shalt see for thyself when thou comest to -Tollendhal. Na, ya, and thou shalt study it too—it all runs in thine -veins also. Forget it not!... And of all her treasures, your aunt -would always tell me there was none she prized more than that document -relating to our family. She had it unrolled upon her bed when she could -no longer use her limbs, and she used to trace out, crying now and -then, the poor soul, what her boy would have carried of honour if he -had lived. Ah, ’twas a million pities she never bore me another!—’tis -the only reproach that darf be made her.... I have consoled myself -hitherto with the thought of my nephew’s youthling; but, Potzblitz, -this Edmund, now the head of our family—ach, the verdamned hound! -Tausend Donnern and Bomben!”—and my great-uncle’s guttural voice would -come rumbling, like gathering thunder indeed, and rise to a frightful -bellow—“to barter his fine old name for the verdamned mummery of a -Baron Rainswick—Rainswick?—pooh! A creation of this Hanover dog! -And what does he give on his side to drive this fine bargain? Na, na, -sprech to me not: I mislike it; nephew, I tell thee, I doubt me but -there is something hinter it yet. - -“Nephew Basil,” he then went on, this day I speak of, “if I were not -seventy-three years old I would marry again—I would, to have an heir, -by Heaven! that the true race might not die out!” - -And despite his wall-eye, his jaw, his game leg, his generally -disastrous aspect, I believe he might have been as good as his threat, -his seventy-and-three years notwithstanding. But what really deterred -him from such a rash step was his belief (although he would not -gratify me by saying so) that there was at hand as good a Jennico as -he could wish for, and that one, myself, Basil. And he saw in me a -purer sproutling of that noble island race of the north that he was so -fiercely proud of, than he could have produced by a marriage with a -foreigner. For, thorough “Imperial” as he now was, and notwithstanding -his early foreign education (which had begun in the Stuart regiments -of the French king), the dominant thought in the old warrior’s brain -was that a very law of nature required the gentle-born sons of such -a country to be honoured as leaders among foreign men. And great was -the array of names he could summon, should any one be rash enough to -challenge the assertion. Butlers and Lallys, Brownes and Jerninghams, -by Gad! Keiths and Dillons and Berwicks, _morbleu_! Fermors, Loudons, -and Lacys, and how many more if necessary; ay, and Jennicos not the -least of them, I should hope, _teremtété_! - -I did not think that my brother had bettered himself by the change, and -still less could I concur in the turn-coat policy he had thought fit -to adopt in order to buy from a Hanoverian King and a bigoted House of -Lords this accession of honour. For my uncle was not far wrong in his -suspicions, and in truth it did not require any strong perspicacity to -realise that it was not for nothing my brother was thus distinguished. -I mean not for his merits—which amounts to the same thing. I made -strong efforts to keep the tidings of his cowardly defection from my -uncle. But family matters were not, as I have said, to be hidden from -Feldmarschall Edmund von Jennico. I believe the news hastened his -dissolution. Repeated fits of anger are pernicious to gouty veterans of -explosive temper. It was barely three weeks after the arrival of the -tidings of my brother having taken the oaths and his seat in the House -of Lords that I was summoned by a messenger, hot foot, from the little -frontier town where I was quartered with my squadron, to attend my -great-uncle’s death-bed. It was a sixteen-hours’ ride through the snow. -I reached this frowning old stronghouse late at night, hastened by a -reminder at each relay ready prepared for me; hastened by the servants -stationed at the gate; hastened on the stairs, at his very door, the -door of this room. I found him sitting in his armchair, almost a corpse -already, fully conscious, grimly triumphant. - -“Thou shalt have it all,” was the first thing he whispered to me as -I knelt by his side. His voice was so low that I had to bend my ear -to his mouth. But the pride of race had never seemed to burn with -brighter flame. “Alles ist dein, alles ... aber,” and he caught at me -with his clawlike hand, cold already with the very chill of earth, -“remember that thou the last Jennico bist. Royal blood, Kerlchen, Knut, -Plantagenet, Stuart ... noblesse oblige, remember. Bring no roturière -into the family.” - -His heiduck, who had endured his testy temper and his rigid rule for -forty years, suddenly gave a kind of gulp, like a sob, from behind the -chair where he stood, rigid, on duty at his proper post, but with his -hands, instead of resting correctly on hip and sword-handle, joined in -silent prayer. A striking-looking man, for all his short stature, with -his extraordinary breadth of shoulders, his small piercing eyes, his -fantastically hard features all pock-seared, that seemed carved out of -some swarthy, worm-eaten old oak. - -“Thou fool!” hissed my uncle, impatiently turning his head at the -sound, and making a vain attempt to seek the ever-present staff with -his trembling fingers. “Basil, crack me the knave on the skull.” Then -he paused a moment, looked at the clock and said in a significant way, -“It is time, János.” - -The heiduck instantly moved and left the room, to return promptly, -ushering in a number of the retainers who had evidently been gathered -together and kept in attendance against my arrival. - -They ranged themselves silently in a row behind János; and the dying -man in a feeble voice and with the shadow of a gesture towards me, but -holding them all the while under his piercing look, said two or three -times: - -“Your master, men, your master.” Whereupon, János leading the way, -every man of them, household-steward, huntsmen, overseers, foresters, -hussars, came forward, kissed my hand, and retired in silence. - -Then the end came rapidly. He wandered in his speech and was back in -the past with dead and gone comrades. At the very last he rallied once -more, fixed me with his poor eye that I had never seen dim before, and -spoke with consciousness: - -“Thou, the last Jennico, remember. Be true. Tell the renegade I -rejoice, his shame striketh not us. Tell him that he did well to change -his name. Kerlchen, dear son, thou art young and strong, breed a fine -stock. No roture! but sell and settle ... sell and settle.” - -Those words came upon his last sigh. His eye flashed once, and then the -light was extinguished. - -Thus he passed. His dying thought was for the worthy continuance of -his race. I found myself the possessor, so the tabellions informed me -some days later, of many millions (reckoned by the florins of this -land) besides the great property of Tollendhal—fertile plains as -well as wild forests, and of this same isolated frowning castle with -its fathom-thick walls, its odd pictures of half-savage dead and gone -Woschutzskis, its antique clumsy furniture, tapestries, trophies of -chase and war; master, moreover, of endless tribes of dependants: -heiducks and foresters; females of all ages, whose bare feet in summer -patter oddly on the floors like the tread of animals, whose high-boots -in winter clatter perpetually on the stone flags of stairs and -corridors; serf-peasants, factors, overseers; the strangest mixture of -races that can be imagined: Slovacks, Bohemians, Poles, to labour on -the glebe; Saxons or Austrians to rule over them and cypher out rosters -and returns; Magyars, who condescend to manage my horseflesh and watch -over my safety if nothing else; the travelling bands of gipsies, ever -changing but never failing with the dance, the song and the music, -which is as indispensable as salt to the life of that motley population. - -And I, who in a more rational order of things might have been leading -the life of a young squire at home, became sovereign lord of all, -wielding feudal power over strings of vassals who deemed it great -honour to bend the knee before me and kiss my hand. - -No doubt, in the beginning, it was vastly fine; especially as so -much wealth meant freedom. For my first act, on my return after the -expiration of my furlough, was to give up the duties of regimental -life, irksome and monotonous in these piping days of peace. Then I -must hie me to Vienna, and there, for the first time of my life of -six-and-twenty years, taste the joy of independence. In Vienna are -enough of dashing sparks and beautiful women, of princes and courtiers, -gamblers and rakes, to teach me how to spend some of my new-found -wealth in a manner suitable to so fashionable a person as myself. - -But how astonishingly soon one accustoms oneself to luxury and -authority! It is but three months ago that, having drained the brimming -cup of pleasure to the dregs, I found its first sweetness cloying, -its first alluring sparkle almost insufferable; that, having basked -in perpetual smiles, I came to weary of so much favour. Winning at -play had no fascination for a man with some thirty thousand pounds a -year at his back; and losing large slices of that patrimony which -had, I felt, been left me under an implied trust, was dully galling -to my conscience. I was so uniformly fortunate also in the many duels -in which I was involved among the less favoured—through the kindness -which the fair ladies of Vienna and Bude began to show to _le beau -Jennico_ (the old dictum had been revived in my favour)—that after -disabling four of my newly-found “best friends,” even so piquant an -entertainment lost all pretence of excitement. - -And with the progress of disillusion concerning the pleasure of -idleness in wealth, grew more pressing the still small voice which -murmured at my ear that it was not for such an end, not for the -gratification of a mere libertine, gambler, and duellist, that my -great-uncle Jennico had selected me as the depositary of his wealth and -position. - -“Sell and settle, sell and settle.” The old man’s words had long enough -been forgotten. It was high time to begin mastering the intricacies -of that vast estate, if ever I was to turn it to the profit of that -stream of noble Jennicos to come. And in my state of satiety the very -remoteness of my new property, its savageness, its proud isolation, -invested it with an odd fascination. From one day to the other I -determined on departure, and left the emptiness of the crowd to seek -the fulness of this wild and beautiful country. - -Here for a time I tasted interest in life again; knew a sort -of well-filled peace; felt my soul expand with renewed vigour, -keenness for work and deeds, hope and healthy desire, self-pride -and satisfaction. Then came the foolish adventure which has left me -naked and weak in the very midst of my wealth and power; which has -left rudderless an existence that had set sail so gaily for glorious -happiness. - - * * * * * - -The bell of the horologe, from its snow-capped turret overlooking the -gate of honour in the stronghold of Tollendhal, slowly tolled the tenth -hour of that tempestuous night; and the notes resounded in the room, -now strongly vibrating, now faint and distant, as the wind paused for -a second, or bore them away upon its dishevelled wing. Upon the last -stroke, as Basil Jennico was running over the last page of his fair -paper, the door behind him, creaking on its hinges, was thrown open by -János, the heiduck, displaying in the next chamber a wide table, lit by -two six-branched chandeliers and laid for the evening meal. The twelve -yellow tongues of flame glinted on the silver, the cut glass, and the -snow-white napery, but only to emphasise the sombre depth of the -mediæval room, the desolate eloquence of that solitary seat at the huge -board. János waited till his master, with weary gesture, had cast his -pen aside, and then ceremoniously announced that his lordship’s supper -was ready. - -Impatiently enough did the young man dip his fingers in the aiguière of -perfumed water that a damsel on his right offered to him as he passed -through the great doors, drying them on the cloth handed by another -on his left. Frowning he sat him down in his high-backed chair behind -which the heiduck stood ready to present each dish as it was brought up -by other menials, to keep the beaker constantly filled, to answer with -a bow any observation that he might make, should the lord feel disposed -to break silence. - -But to-night the Lord of Tollendhal was less disposed than ever in such -a direction. He chafed at the long ceremony; resented the presence of -these creatures who had seen her sit as their mistress at that table, -where now lay nought but vacancy beyond the white cloth; resented even -the silent solicitude that lurked in János’s eyes, though the latter -never broke unauthorised his rule of silence. - -The generous wine, in the stillness and the black solitude, bred -presently a yet deeper melancholy. After a perfunctory meal the young -man waved aside a last glass of the amber Tokay that was placed at his -hand, rose, and moodily walked to and fro for some time. Feeling that -the coming hours had no sleep in reserve for a mind in such turmoil as -his, he returned to his writing-table, and, whilst János directed the -servants to bring in and trim fresh candles, and pile more logs upon -the hearth, Basil Jennico resumed his task. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -BASIL JENNICO’S MEMOIR CONTINUED - - -MY great-uncle’s will, forcible, concise, indisputable as it was, -had been (so the man of law informed me) drawn out in a great hurry, -dictated, indeed, between spasms of agony and rage. (The poor old man -died of gout in his stomach.) Doubtless, had he felt sure of more -time, he would have burdened the inheritance with many directions and -conditions. - -From his broken utterances, however, and from what I had known of him -in life, I gathered a fair idea of what his wishes were. His fifty -years of foreign service had filled him, old pandour that he seemed to -have become, with but increased contempt for the people that surrounded -him, their ways and customs, while his pride as an Englishman was only -equalled by his pride as a Jennico. - -“Sell and settle....” - -The meaning of the words was clear in the light of the man as I knew -him. I was to sell the great property, carry to England the vast hoard -of foreign wealth, marry as befitted one of the race, and raise a -new and splendid line of Jennicos, to the utter mortification, and -everlasting confusion, of the degenerate head of the house. - -Now, though I knew it to be in me, and felt it, indeed, not otherwise -possible, to live my life as true a Jennico as even my uncle could -desire, I by no means deemed it incumbent upon me to set to work and -carry out his plans without first employing my liberty and wealth as -the humour prompted me. Nor was the old country an overpoweringly -attractive place for a young man of my creed and kidney. In Vienna I -was, perhaps, for the moment, the most noted figure—the guest most -sought after that year. In England, at daggers drawn with my brother, I -could only play an everyday part in an unpopular social minority. - -It was in full summer weather that, as I have written, already tried by -the first stage of my career of wealth, I came to take possession of my -landed estates. The beauty and wildness of the scenery, the strangeness -of the life in the well-nigh princely position to which this sudden -turn of fortune’s wheel had elevated me, the intoxicating sensation of -holding sway, as feudal lord of these wide tracts of hill and plain, -over so many hundreds of lives—above all, the wholesome reaction -brought about by solitude and communion with nature after the turmoil -of the last months—in short, everything around me and in me made me -less inclined than ever to begin ridding myself of so fair a possession. - -And do I wish I had not thus delayed in obeying the injunction that -accompanied the bequest? Odds my life! I am a miserable dog this day -through my disobedience; and yet, would I now undo the past if I could? -A thousand times no! I hate my folly, but hug it, ever closer, ever -dearer. The bitter savour of that incomprehensible yearning clings to -the place: I would not exchange it for the tameness of peace. Weakling -that I am, I would not obliterate, if I could, the memory of those -brief, brief days of which I failed to know the price, until the -perversity of fate cut their thread for ever—ay, perhaps for ever, -after all! And yet, if so, it were wiser to quit these haunted walls -for ever also. But, God! how meagre and livid looks wisdom, the ghost, -by the side of love’s warm and living line! - -And now, on! Since I have put my hand to the task, undertaken to set -forth and make clear the actual condition of that vacillating puppet, -the new-fledged Lord of Tollendhal, I will not draw it back, cost me -what pain it may. - -No doubt it was this haunting pride of wealth, waxing every day -stronger, even as the pride of birth which my great-uncle had fostered -to such good purpose, the overweening conceit which they bred within -me, that fogged my better judgment and brought me to this pass. And no -doubt, likewise, it is a princely estate that these lords of Tollendhal -of old carved for themselves, and rounded ever wider and nurtured—all -that it should some day, passing through the distaff, come to swell the -pride of Suffolk Jennicos! - -My castle rises boldly on the northernmost spur of the Glatzer Mounts, -and defiantly overlooks the marches of three kingdoms. Its lands and -dependencies, though chiefly Moravian, extend over the Bohemian border -as well as into that Silesia they now are able to call Prussian. North -and west it is flanked by woods that grow wilder, denser, as they -spread inwards towards the Giant Mountains. On the southern slopes are -my vineyards, growths of note, as I hear. My territories reach, on the -one hand, farther than can be seen under the blue horizon, into the -Eastern plains, flat and rich, that stretch with curious suddenness -immediately at the foot of the high district; upon the other hand, on -the Moravian side, I doubt whether even my head steward himself knows -exactly how much of the timber-laden hill-ranges can be claimed as -appertaining to the estate. All the peaks I can descry in a fine day -from these casements are mine, I believe; on their flanks are forests -as rich in game—boar and buck, wolf and bear, not to speak of lesser -quarry—as are the plains below in corn and maize and cattle—_que -sais-je?_ A goodly heritage indeed! - -I promised myself many a rare day’s sport so soon as the time waxed -ripe. Meanwhile, my days were spent in rambles over the land, under -pretence of making acquaintance with the farms and the villages, and -the population living on the soil and working out its wealth for my -use, but in reality for the enjoyment of delicious sylvan and rustic -idleness through which the memory of recent Viennese dissipations was -like that of a fevered dream. - -The spirit of my country-keeping ancestors lived again within me and -was satisfied. Yet there were times, too, when this freedom of fancy -became loneliness—when my eyes tired of green trees, and my ears -hungered for the voice of some human being whom I could meet as an -equal, with whom I could consort, soul and wit. Then I would resolve -that, come the autumn, I would fill the frowning stronghouse with a -rousing throng of gallant hunters and fair women such as it had never -seen before. Ay, and they should come over, even from old England, to -taste of the Jennico hospitality! - -It was in one of these glorious moods that, upon a September day, -sultry as summer, although there was a touch of autumn decay in the -air as well as in the tints around me, I sallied forth, after noon, -to tramp on foot an as yet unexplored quarter of my domain. I had -donned, according to my wont (as being more suitable to the roughness -of the paths than the smallclothes, skirted coats, high heels and -cocked hat of Viennese fashion), the dress of the Moravian peasant—I -gather that it pleases the people’s heart to see their seigneur grace -their national garb on occasions. There was a goodly store of such -costumes among the cupboards full of hereditary habiliments and furs -preserved at Tollendhal, after the fashion of the country, with the -care that English housewives bestow upon their stores of linen. My -peasant suit was, of course, fine of cloth and natty of cut, and the -symmetry of the handsome figure I saw in my glass reminded me more of -the pastoral disguises that were the courtly fashion of some years -back than of our half-savage ill-smelling boors. Thus it was pleasant -as well as comfortable to wear, and at that time even so trifling a -sensation of gratified vanity had its price. But, although thus freed -of the incumbrance of a gentleman’s attire, I could not shake off the -watchful tyranny of János, the solemn heiduck who never allowed me to -stir abroad at all without his escort, nor, indeed (if my whim took me -far afield), without the further retinue of two jägers, twin brothers, -and faithful beyond a doubt. These, carbine on shoulder, and hanger on -thigh, had their orders to follow their lord through thick and thin, -and keep within sight and sound of whistle. - -In such odd style of state, on this day, destined to begin for me -a new chapter in life, I took my course; and for a long hour or so -walked along the rocky cornice that overhangs the plains. The land -looked bare and wide and solitary, the fields lay in sallow leanness -bereft of waving crops, but I knew that all my golden grain was stacked -safely in the heart of the earth, where these folk hoard its fruits -for safety from fire. The air was so empty of human sounds, save the -monotonous tramp of my escort behind me, that all the murmurs of wind -and foliage struck with singular loudness upon my ear. Over night, -there had, by my leave, been songs and dancing in the courtyard of -Tollendhal, and the odd tunes, the capricious rhythm of the gipsy -musicians, came back upon me as I walked in the midst of my thoughts. -These melodies are fitful and plaintive as the sounds of nature itself, -they come hurrying and slackening, rising and falling, with as true a -harmony and as unmeasured a measure,—now in a very passion of haste, -and now with a dreamy long-drawn sigh. I was thinking on this, and on -the love of the Empress for that music (my Empress that had been when -I wore her uniform, ay, and my Empress still so long as I retain these -noble lands), when I came to a field, sloping from the crag towards -the plain, where an aftermath of grass had been left to dry. There -was a little belt of trees, which threw a grateful shade; and feeling -something weary I flung me down on the scented hay. It was on the -Silesian portion of my land. Against the horizon, the white and brown -of some townlet, clustering round the ace-of-club-shaped roof of its -church-tower, rose glittering above the blue haze. A little beyond the -field ran a white road. So I reclined, looking vaguely into the unknown -but inviting distance, musing on the extent of those possessions so -wide-spread that I had not as yet been able to ride all their marches, -ever and anon recognising vaguely in the voice of the breeze through -the foliage an echo of the music that had been haunting my thoughts -all day. Everything conspired to bring me pleasant fancies. I began -to dream of past scenes and future fortunes, smiling at the thought -of what my dashing friends would say if they saw _le beau Jennico_ in -this bucolic attitude, wondering if any of my Court acquaintances would -recognise him in his peasant garb. - -Ah me, how eternally and lovingly I thought of my proud and brilliant -self then!... - -I cannot recall how soon this musing became deep sleep, but sleep -I did and dream—a singular, vivid dream, which was in a manner a -continuation of my waking thoughts. I seemed to be at a great _fête_ at -the Imperial Palace, one of the countless throng of guests. The lights -were brilliant, blinding, but I saw many faces I knew, and we all were -waiting most eagerly for some wonderful event. No one was speaking, and -the only sounds were the rustling and brushing of the ladies’ brocades -and the jingle of the officers’ spurs, with over and above the wail -of the czimbalom. All at once I knew, as we do in dreams, what we -were expecting, and why this splendid feast had been prepared. Marie -Antoinette, the fair young Dauphine of France, the memory of whose -grace still hangs about the Court, had come back to visit her own -country. The crowd grew closer and closer. The crowd about me surged -forward to catch a glimpse of her as she passed, and I with the rest, -when suddenly my great-uncle stood before me, immensely bestarred and -beribboned in his field-marshal’s uniform, and with the black patch on -his eye so black that it quite dazzled me. - -“Na, Kerlchen,” he was saying to me, “thou hast luck! Her Imperial and -Royal Highness has chosen the young Jennico to dance with ... as the -old one is too old.” - -Now I, in common with the young men about me, have grown to cherish -since my coming to this land a strange enthusiasm for the most womanly -and beautiful of all the Empress’s daughters, and therefore, even in my -dream, my heart began to beat very fast, and I scarce knew which way -to turn. I was much troubled too by the music, which went on always -louder and quicker above my head, somewhere in the air, for I knew -that no such things as country dances are danced at Court, and that I -myself would make but a poor figure in such; yet a peasant dance it -undoubtedly was. Next, my uncle was gone, and though I could not see -her, I knew the Princess was coming by the swish of her skirt as she -walked. I heard her voice as clear as a silver bell. “_Où est-il?_” -it said, and I felt she was looking for me. I struggled in vain to -answer or turn to her, and the voice cried again: “_Où est-il?_” upon -which another voice with a quaver in its tones made reply: “_Par ici, -Altesse!_” - -The sound must have been very close to me, for it startled me from my -deep sleep into, as it were, an outer court of dreams. And between -slumber and consciousness I became aware that I was lying somewhere -very hot and comfortable; that, while some irresistible power kept -my eyes closed, my ears were not so, and I could hear the two voices -talking together; and, in my wandering brain believed them still to -belong to the Princess Marie Antoinette and her attendant. - -“It is a peasant,” said the first voice: that was the Princess of -course. There was something of scorn in the tone, and I became acutely -and unpleasantly conscious of my red embroidered shirt. But the other -made answer: “He is handsome,” and then: “His hands are not those of a -peasant,” and, “_Regardez ma chère_; peasants do not wear such jewelled -watches!” A sudden shadow fell over me and was gone in an instant. -There was a flicker of laughter and I sat up. - -During my sleep the shade of the sun had shifted and I lay in the full -glare, and so, as I opened my eyes, I could see nothing. - -I heard the laughter of my dream again, and I knew that the mocking cry -of “_Prenez garde, Altesse!_” that still rang in the air did not belong -to my sleep. But as I rubbed my eyes and looked out once again, I -caught first a glimpse of a slender creature bending over me, outlined -it seemed in fire and shimmering between black and gold. My next glance -filled me with a woeful disappointment, for I declare, what with my -dream and my odd awakening, I expected to find before me a beauty no -less bewitching than that of her Royal Highness herself. What I beheld -was but a slim slip of a creature who, from the tip of her somewhat -battered shepherdess hat to the hem of her loosely hanging skirts, gave -me an impression of being all yellow, save for the dark cloud of her -hair. Her skin seemed golden yellow like old ivory, her eyes seemed to -shoot yellow sparks, her gown was yellow as any primrose. As she bent -to watch me, her lip was arched into a smile; it had a deep dimple on -the left side. Thus I saw her in a sort of flash and scrambled to my -feet still half drunk with drowsiness, crying out like a fool: - -“_Où est son Altesse? Où est son Altesse?_” - -She clapped her hands and turned with a crow of laughter to some one -behind me. And then I became aware that, as in the dream, there were -two. I also turned. - -My eyes were in their normal state again, but for a moment I thought -myself still wandering. Here was her Highness. A Princess, indeed, as -beautiful as any vision and yet most exquisitely embodied in the flesh; -a Princess in this wilderness! It seemed a thing impossible, and yet my -eyes now only corroborated the evidence of my ears. - -I marked, almost without knowing, the rope of pearls that bound her -throat (I had become a judge of jewels by being the possessor of -so many). I marked her garments, garments, for all their intended -simplicity, rich, and bearing to my not untutored observation the -latest stamp of fashion. But above all I marked her air of race, her -countenance, young with the first bloom of youth, mantled with blushes -yet set with a royal dignity. - -I have, since that eventful day, passed through so many phases of -feeling, sweet and violent, my present sentiments are so fantastically -disturbed, that I must try to the last of this writing and see matters -still as I saw them at the time. Yes, beyond doubt what I noticed -most, what appealed to me most deeply then, was the great air of race -blended and softened by womanly candour and grace. She looked at me -gravely, with wide brown eyes, and I stumbled into my best courtly bow. - -“He wants to know,” said the damsel of the yellow skirts, this time in -German, the clear, clean utterance of which had nothing of the broad -Austrian sounds I was accustomed to hear—“he wants to know ’where is -the Highness?’ But he seems to have guessed where she stands, without -the telling. Truly ’tis a pity the Lord Chamberlain is not at his post -to make a presentation in due form!” - -The lady thus addressed took a step towards her companion, with what -seemed a protest on her lip. But the latter, her small face quivering -with mischief and eagerness, whispered something in her ear, and the -beautiful brown eyes fixed themselves once again smilingly on me. - -“Know, sir,” continued the speaker then, “since you are so indiscreet -as to wake at the wrong moment, and surprise an incognito, the -mysteries of which were certainly not meant for such as you, that -Altesse she is. _Son Altesse Sérénissime la Princesse Marie Ottilie._ -Marie is her Highness’s first name, and Ottilie is her Highness’s last -name. And between the two and after those two, being as I said an -Altesse Sérénissime, she has of course a dozen other names; but more -than this it does not suit her Highness that you should know. Now if -you will do me, a humble attendant that I am, the courtesy to state -who you are, who, in a Silesian boor’s attire, speak French and wear -diamond watches to your belt, I can proceed with the introduction, even -in the absence of the Lord Chamberlain.” - -The minx had an easy assurance of manner which could only have been -bred at Court. Her mistress listened to her with what seemed a tolerant -affection. - -Looking round, bewildered and awkwardly conscious of my peasant dress, -I beheld my two chasseurs, standing stolidly sentinel on the exact spot -where I had last seen them before dropping asleep. Old János, from a -nearer distance, watched us suspiciously. As I thus looked round I -became aware of a new feature in the landscape—a ponderous coach also -attended by two chasseurs in unknown uniforms waiting some hundred -paces off, down the road. - -To keep myself something in countenance despite my incongruous garb -(and also perchance for the little meanness that I was not displeased -to show this Princess that I too kept a state of my own), I lifted my -hand and beckoned to my retinue, which instantly advanced and halted in -a rank with rigid precision five paces behind me. - -“Gracious madam,” said I in German, bowing to her who had dubbed -herself the lady-in-waiting, with a touch, I flattered myself, of -her own light mockery of tone, “I shall indeed feel honoured if her -Serene Highness will deign to permit the presentation of so unimportant -a person as myself—in other words of Basil Jennico of Farringdon -Dane, in the county of Suffolk, in the Kingdom of Great Britain, -lately a captain in his Royal Imperial Majesty’s Moravian Regiment of -Chevau-Legers, now master of the Castle of Tollendhal, not far distant, -and lord of its domain.” Here, led by János, my three retainers saluted. - -I thought I saw in the Princess’s eyes that I had created a certain -impression, but my consequent complacency did not escape the notice of -the irrepressible lady-in-waiting. She promptly did her best to mar the -situation. - -“Fi donc,” she cried, in French, “we are at Court, Monsieur, and at the -Court of—at the Court of her Highness we are not such savages as to -perform introductions in German.” - -Then, drawing up her slight figure and composing her face into -preternatural gravity, she took two steps forward and another -sideways, accompanied by as many bows, and resting her hand at arm’s -length on the china head of her stick, with the most ridiculous -assumption of finikin importance and with a quavering voice which, -although I have never known him, I recognised instantly as the -Chamberlain’s, she announced: - -“Monsieur Basile Jean Nigaud de la Faridondaine, dans le comté où l’on -Suffoque, ... d’importance, au royaume de la Grande Bretagne, maître du -Castel des Fous, ici proche, et seigneur des alentours,—ahem!” - -Inwardly cursing the young woman’s buffoonery and the incredible -facility with which she had so instantly burlesqued an undoubtedly -impressive recital, I had no choice but to make my three bows with -what good grace I could muster. Whereupon, the Princess, still smiling -but with a somewhat puzzled air, made me a curtsey. As for the -lady-in-waiting, nothing abashed, she took an imaginary pinch of most -excellent snuff with a pretence of high satisfaction; then laughed -aloud and long, till my ears burned and her own dimple literally rioted. - -“And now, to complete the ceremony,” said she, as soon as she could -speak at all, “let me introduce the Court, represented to-day by -myself. Mademoiselle Marie Ottilie. Two Ottilies as you will perceive, -but easily explained, thus: Feu the Highest her Sérénissime’s -gracious ducal grandmother being an Ottilie and godmother to us -both—Mademoiselle Ottilie: the rest concerns you not. Well, Monsieur -de la Faridondaine, Capitaine et Seigneur, etc., etc.,—charmed to -have made your acquaintance. So far, so good. But ... these gentlemen? -Surely also nobles in disguise. Will you not continue the ceremony?” - -She waved a little sunburnt hand towards my immovable body-guard, and -the full absurdity of my position struck me with the keenest sense of -mortification. - -I looked back at the three, biting my lips, and miserably uncertain how -to conduct myself so as to save some shred of dignity. My ancient János -had seen too many strange things during his forty years’ attendance on -my great-uncle to betray the smallest surprise at the present singular -situation; but out of both their handsome faces, set like bronze,—they -had better not have moved a muscle otherwise or János would have known -the reason why,—the eyes of my twin attendants roamed from me to the -ladies, and from the ladies to me, with the most devouring curiosity. -I tartly dismissed them all again to a distance, and then, turning to -the mysterious Princess I begged to know, in my most courtlike manner -if I might presume to lay my services at her feet for the time of her -sojourn in this, my land. - -With the same adorable yet dignified bashfulness that I had -already noted in her, the lovely woman looked hesitatingly at her -lady-in-waiting, which lively wench, not being troubled with timidity -(as she had already sufficiently demonstrated), promptly took upon -herself to answer me. But this time she so delightfully fell in with my -own wishes that I was fain to forgive her all that had gone before. - -“But certainly,” she exclaimed, “her Serene Highness will condescend -to accept the services of M. de Jean Nigaud. It is not every day that -brings forth such romantic encounters. Know, sir, that we are two -damozels that have by the most extraordinary succession of fortunate -accidents escaped from school. You wonder? By school, I mean the -insupportable tedium, etiquette, and dulness of the Court of his most -gracious and worshipful Serenity the father of her Highness. We came -out this noon to make hay, and hay we will make. Or rather we shall sit -on the hay, and you shall make a throne for the Princess, and a little -tabouret for me, and then you may sit you down and entertain us ... -but on the ground, and at a respectful distance, that none may say -we do not observe proper forms and conventions, for all that we are -holiday-making. And you shall explain to us how you, an Englishman, -came to be master of Château des Fous, and masquerading in peasant’s -attire. Is masquerading a condition of tenure? After which, her Serene -Highness having only one fault, that being her angelic softness of -heart, which is pushed to the degree of absolute weakness, she will -permit me to narrate to you (as much as is good for you to know) -how we came to be here at such a distance from our own country, and -in such curious freedom—for her Highness quite sees that you are -rapidly becoming ill with suppressed curiosity, and fears that you may -otherwise burst with it on your way home to your great castle, or at -least that the pressure on the brain may seriously affect its delicate -balance—if indeed,” with a peal of her reckless childish laughter, -“you are not already a lunatic, and those your keepers!” - -This last piece of impudence might have proved even too much for my -desire to cultivate an acquaintance so extraordinarily attractive to -one of my turn of mind and so alluring by its mysteriousness, but that -I happened to catch a glance from her Highness’s eyes even as the -speaker finished her tirade, which glance, deprecating and at the same -time full of a kindly and gentle interest, set my heart to beat in a -curious fashion between pleasure and pain. I hastened therefore to obey -the younger lady’s behests, and began to gather together enough of the -sweet-smelling hay to form a throne for so noble and fair an occupant. - -Whereupon the little creature herself—she seemed little by reason -of her slenderness and childishness, but in truth she was as tall as -her tall and beautiful mistress—fell to helping me with such right -good-will, flashing upon me, as she flitted hither and thither, such -altogether innocently mocking looks from her yellow-hazel eyes, that -I should have been born with a deeper vanity, and a sourer temper, to -have kept a grudge against her. - -Once seated in our fragrant court, in the order laid down for us, the -attendant, so soon as she had recovered breath sufficient, began to ply -me with questions so multiplied, so searching, and so pointed, that -she very soon extracted from me every detail she wished to know about -myself, past and present. - -But although, as from a chartered and privileged advocate, the sharp -cross-questioning came from the Mademoiselle Marie Ottilie, it was -to the soft dumb inquiry I read in the Princess Marie Ottilie’s eyes -that were addressed my answers. And then those eyes and the listening -beauty of that gracious face, made it hard for me to realise, as later -reflection proved, that their owner did not utter a single word during -the whole time we sat there together. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -I MIND me that when she had drawn from me all she had wanted to know, -the little lady’s pert tongue became still for a while, and that she -stretched her long young limbs and lay back upon her mound of hay with -the most absolute unconcern either of my presence or of the Princess’s, -gazing skyward with a sudden gravity in her look. As for me, I was -content to sit in silence too, glad of the quiet, because it gave me -leisure to taste the full zest of this fortunate and singular meeting. -I thought I had never seen a human being whom silence became so well as -the Princess Ottilie. Contrasted with the recklessness and chatter of -her companion her attitude struck me as the most perfectly dignified it -had ever been my lot to observe. - -Presently the nymph in yellow roused herself from her reverie, and sat -up, with her battered hat completely on one side and broken bits of -grass sticking in the tangled mass of her brown hair. She arched her -lip at me with her malicious smile, and addressed her companion. - -“Is it your Highness’s pleasure,” she asked, “that I should gratify -some of this young English nobleman’s curiosity concerning the -wandering of a Princess in so unprincely a fashion?” - -“Ach!” rebuked her Highness, on the wings of a soft sigh. The truth of -the girl’s assertion that her mistress’s kindness of heart amounted to -weakness, was very patent; the dependant was undoubtedly indulged to -the verge of impertinence, although it is also true that her manner -seemed to stop short of any open show of disrespect. - -“Now attention, please, Monsieur de la Faridondaine! His Most -Absolutely to be Revered and Most Gracious Serenity, father of her -Highness, reigns over a certain land, a great many leagues from here,” -she began, with all the gusto of one who revels in the sound of her own -voice. “Her Highness is his only daughter, and this August Person has -the condescension to feel for her some of those sentiments of paternal -affection which are common even to the lowest peasant. You have been -about Courts, Monsieur Jean Nigaud, the fact is patent and indubitable. -You can therefore realise the extent of such condescension. A little -while ago, moved by these sentiments, my gracious Sovereign believed -there was a paleness upon her Highness his daughter’s cheek.” - -Involuntarily I looked at the Princess, to see, with a curious elation, -how the rich colour rushed, under my gaze, yet more richly into her -face. - -“It does not appear now,” pursued the imperturbable speaker, whom no -blink of mine seemed to escape, “but there _was_ a paleness, and the -Court doctor decided there was likewise a trifling loss of tone and -want of strength. He recommended a change of air, tonic baths, and -grape cure. In consequence, after due deliberation and consultation, it -was decreed that her Highness should be sent to a certain region in the -mountains, where Höchst die Selbe has a grand, a most high, ducal aunt, -the said region being noted for its salubrious air, its baths, the -quality and extent of its vineyards. In company, therefore, of a few -indispensable court officials—the Lord Chamberlain (as a responsible -person for her Highness’s movements), the most gracious a certain aged -and high born Gräfin (our chief Court lady, once the Highness’s own -gouvernante), the second Court doctor, the third officier de bouche, -and mine own humble self——” - -Here she paused, and, with a sudden assumption of dolefulness that was -certainly comic, proceeded in quite another voice: - -“I am a person of no consequence at Court, Monsieur de la -Faridondaine. I am merely tolerated because of her Highness’s goodness, -and also because, you must know, that I have a reputation of being a -source of amusement to her Serenity. You may already have noticed that -it is fairly well founded that I am talkative and entertaining, as a -lady-in-waiting should be, and this is the reason why I have attained a -position to which my birth does not entitle me.” - -A little frown came across the Princess’s smooth brow at these words. -She shot a look of deprecation at her attendant, but the latter went -on, resuming her former manner, in a bubbling of merriment: - -“Facts are facts, you see—I am even hardly _born_. My mother happened -to be liked by the mother of her Serene Highness—an angel—and when -I was orphaned she took me closer to her. So we grew up together, her -Highness and I, and so I come to be in so grand a place as a Court. -There, Monsieur, you have in a word the history of Mademoiselle Marie -Ottilie. I have no wish that she should ever seem to have appeared -under false colours.” - -The Princess, whose sensitive blood had again risen to a crimson tide, -cast a very uneasy look at her companion. I could see how much her -affectionate delicacy was wounded by this unnecessary candour. - -But little mademoiselle, after returning the glance with one as -mischievous and unfeeling as a jackdaw’s, continued, hugging her knees -with every appearance of enjoyment: - -“And now we come to the series of delightful accidents which brought -us here. Behold! no sooner had we left the Court of—the Court her -Highness belongs to—than the smallpox broke out in the Residenz and in -the palace itself. The father of her Serenity had had it; there was no -danger for _him_, and he was in the act of congratulating himself upon -having sent the Princess out of the way, when, in the most charming -manner (for the Ducal Court of her Highness’s aunt was even duller -than Höchst die Selbe’s own, and after the tenth bunch of grapes you -get rather tired of a grape cure, and as for mud baths—oh fie, the -horror!), we discovered that we had brought the pretty illness with us. -And first one and then the other of the retinue sickened and fell ill. -Then a Court lady of the Duchess took it, and next who should develop -symptoms but the old growl-bear and scratch-cat, our own chief Hofdame, -chief duenna, and chief bore. That was a stroke of fortune, you must -admit! But wait a moment, you have not heard the best of it yet.” - -At the very first mention of the smallpox the Princess grew pale, and -made the sign of the cross. And indeed it seemed to me, myself, a -tempting of Providence to joke thus lightly about a malady so dangerous -to life and so fatal to looks. But the girl proceeded coolly: - -“Her Serene Highness, like her most venerated brother, had had the -disease; I believe they underwent it together in their Serene Babyhood. -But her Serene Highness was deeply alarmed by the danger to which her -Serene niece was exposed. The Court doctor was no less concerned—it -is a bad thing for a Court doctor if a princess in his charge fall a -victim to an epidemic—so they put their heads together and resolved -to send the exalted young lady into some safer region, in company of -such of her retinue as seemed in the soundest health. An aged lady, -mother of M. de Schreckendorf, our Chamberlain already described to -you, dwells in these plains. As a matter of fact,” said the speaker, -pointing a small finger in the direction of the town, “her castle -is yonder. The Duchess had once condescended to spend a night there -to break a journey, and it had remained stamped on her ducal memory -that the place was quiet,—not to say a desert,—that there were -vineyards close by, and also that the air was particularly salubrious. -She knew, too, that the Countess Schreckendorf was quite equal to the -guarding of any youthful Serenity, in short, a dragon of etiquette, -narrow-mindedness, prudery, and ugliness. Together, therefore, with the -Chamberlain, a few women, and the poor doctor, we were packed into a -ducal chariot, and carted here, the Countess receiving the strictest -orders not to divulge the tremendous altitude of her visitor’s rank. -She would die rather than betray the trust,—especially as to thwart -innocent impulses is one of her chief pleasures, nay, I may say her -only pleasure in life. Little does she or the Highness her mistress -suspect the existence of a Seigneur de la Faridondaine, roaming about -in the guise of a simple Silesian shepherd and pretending to sleep in -order to surprise the little secrets of wandering princesses! We were -told, when we asked whether there was no neighbourly creature within -reach, that the only one for leagues was a fearful old man with one eye -and one tooth, who goes about using his cane as freely on every one’s -shoulders as the Prussian king himself. Well, never mind, don’t speak, -I have yet the cream of the tale to offer! We arrived here three weeks -ago and found the grapes no more spicy, the castle no more amusing, -and the neighbourhood more boring than even the ducal Court itself. But -one excellent day, the good little Chamberlain began to look poorly, -complained of his poor little head, and retired to his room. The next -morning what does the doctor do, but pack _him_ into a coach and drive -away with him like a fury. Neither coach, nor postillions, nor doctor, -nor Chamberlain, have been seen or heard of since! But I, who am -awake with the birds, from my chamber window saw them go—for I heard -the clatter in the courtyard, and by nature, M. the Captain, I am as -curious as a magpie.” - -“Oh, that,” said I with conviction, “you need not tell me!” - -She seemed vastly tickled by the frankness of this my first observation -after such long listening, and had to throw herself back on the hay, -and laugh her laugh out, before she could sit up again and continue: - -“So, as I was saying, I saw the departure. The doctor looked livid with -fright, and as for the Herr Chamberlain, he was muffled up in blankets -and coats, but I got a glimpse of his face for all that, and _it was -spotted all over with great red spots_!” - -The Princess pushed her hat off her forehead, and turned upon her -lady-in-waiting a face that had grown almost livid. - -“Pooh!” said the lady-in-waiting; “your Highness is over-nervous; ’tis -now a good fortnight since the old gentleman left us, and if you or I -were to have had it we should have shown symptoms long ago. Well, sir, -to continue: our worthy hostess the Countess was in a fine fume, as -you can fancy, between duty and natural affection, terror and anxiety. -She was by way of keeping the whole matter a dead secret both from us -and from the servants; but the fumigations she set going in the house, -the airing, the dosing, together with her own frantic demeanour, would -have been enough to enlighten even obtuser wits than ours. With one -exception all our servants fled, and all hers. She had to replace -them from a distance. The anger, the responsibility, the agitation -generally, were too much for her years and constitution; and three -days ago—in the act (as we discovered) of writing to the Duchess for -instructions, for she had expected the Court doctor would have sent -on special messengers to the courts of her Highness’s relatives, and -was in a perfect fever at receiving no news—as I say, in the very act -of writing evidently to despatch another post herself, the poor old -lady was struck with paralysis, and was carried speechless to bed. -Now, Monsieur Jean Nigaud, you English are a practical race. Do you -not agree with me that since the Lord, in His wisdom, decreed that it -was good for the Countess’s soul to have a little physical affliction, -it could not have happened at a better moment for us? I know that her -Highness disapproves of what she calls my heartlessness, but I cannot -but rejoice in our freedom. - -“The Countess is recovering, but she won’t speak plain for a long -time to come. Meanwhile we are free—free as air! Our only personal -attendant is my own—my old nurse. You shall see her. She speaks but -little, but she adores me. But as we cannot understand a word of the -language spoken here, and the resources of this district are few, I -will own to you, her Highness has found it a little dull, in spite of -her lady-in-waiting’s well-known gift of entertainment, up to to-day.” - -She threw me an arch look as she spoke, but the Princess, rising with -the dignity peculiar to her, conveyed her sense that the joke had this -time been carried a little too far. - -The shadows were lengthening, the wind had fallen, it was an hour of -great peace and beauty in the land. The Princess took a few steps -towards the road where waited the carriage; I ran forward and presumed -to offer her my arm, which she very graciously, but not without a -blush, accepted. The maid of honour, springing to her feet, followed -us, tripping over the rough ground, with a torn frock and her hat -hanging on her neck by its ribbons. I mind me well how the chasseurs -of the equipage stared to see their lady come leaning on the arm of a -peasant. How they stared, too, at the unabashed, untidy apparition of -the lady-in-waiting! But she, humming a little song as she went, seemed -the last in the world to care what impression she made. - -As we neared the coach, a tall woman all in black, with a black shawl -over her black hair, jet-black eyes, staring blankly out of a swarthy -face, descended from it. She looked altogether so dark and forbidding -a vision that I gave a start when I saw her thus unexpectedly. She -seemed a sort of blot on the whole smiling, sunny landscape. But as -Mademoiselle Ottilie drew near, the woman turned to her, her whole face -breaking pleasantly into a very eloquence of silent, eager love. - -Of course I guessed at once that this was the nurse to whom the saucy -maiden had already referred. I heard them whisper to each other (and -it seemed to me as if the woman were remonstrating with her mistress) -while I installed the Princess on her cushions. Then both rejoined us -to enter the carriage likewise. Before she jumped in, Mademoiselle -Ottilie tapped her nurse on the shoulder with the sort of indifferent, -kind little pat one would bestow on a dog. The woman caught the -careless hand and kissed it, and her eyes as she looked after the -girl’s figure were absolutely adoring; but her whole countenance again -clouded over strangely when her glance fell upon us. At length they all -three were seated, and my graceful retirement was clearly expected. But -still I lingered. - -“The vintage had begun in my vineyards,” quoth I hesitatingly; “if her -Highness would honour me by coming again upon my lands, the sight might -interest her.” - -The Princess hesitated, and then, evidently doubtful as to the -propriety of the step, threw a questioning glance at her companion. - -“But certainly,” said the latter instantly, “why not accept? Your -Highness has been advised to keep in the open air as much as possible, -and your Highness has likewise been recommended innocent diversion: -nothing could be better. When shall we say?” - -“If to-morrow would suit,” I suggested boldly, “I could ride over after -noon, if her Highness would permit me to be her escort. And perhaps she -will also further honour me by accepting some slight refreshment at my -castle. It is worth seeing,” I said, for I saw no reason why I should -be bashful in pushing my advantages, “if your Highness is not afraid -to enter Le Château des Fous?” I ventured to look deep into her eyes -as I spoke, and I remember how those eyes wavered shyly from my gaze, -and how the white lids fell over them. And I remember, too, with what a -sudden mad exultation leaped my heart. - -But, as before, it was the lady-in-waiting who answered. - -“Afraid! who is afraid? Your Highness, will you not comfort the poor -young man and tell him you are not afraid?” - -“If your Highness would deign,” said I, pleadingly, and leaning forward -into the carriage. - -And then she looked at me, and said to me in the sweetest guttural in -all the world, “No, I am not afraid.” - -We were speaking French. I bowed low, fearing to spoil it all by -another word. The Princess stretched out her hand and I kissed the -back of her glove, and then I had the privilege of also kissing Miss -Ottilie’s sunburnt, scratched, and rather grimy bare little paw, which -she, with affected dignity, thrust forward for my salute. - -The carriage drove away, and as it went I mind me how the nurse looked -after me with a darkling anxiety, and also how as I stalked homewards -through the evening glow, with my body-guard tramping steadily behind -me, I kept recalling the sound of the four gracious words with which -the Princess had consented to accept of my hospitality. - -She had said, it is true, “_Che n’ai bas beur_,” but none the less was -the memory a delicate delight to my heart the whole night through. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -I HAD questioned János on our homeward way concerning my new -acquaintances; but the fellow was so ill-disposed by nature to external -gossip, so wholly occupied with the minute fulfilment of his daily -task, which was to watch over the well-being and safety of his master, -that he had gathered no acquaintance with affairs outside his province. -With the head factor, however, whom I sent for immediately after -supper, I was more fortunate. This man, Karl Schultz, is Saxon-born, -and consequently one of the few of my numerous dependants with whom I -can hold converse here. It was but natural that among the peasantry -the advent of strangers, evidently of wealth and distinction, should -have created some stir, and it is Schultz’s business, among many other -things, to know what the peasantry talk about; although in this more -contented part of the world this sort of knowledge is not of such -importance as among our neighbours the Poles. Schultz, therefore, was -aware of the arrival of the ladies, likewise of the rumour of smallpox, -which had, so he informed me, not only driven all the servants out of -the Castle of Schreckendorf, but spread something like a panic over the -country-side. Tidings had also come to his ears that two gentlemen—one -of them suffering from the dreadful malady (doubtless the poor -Chamberlain)—had been abandoned in their carriage by their postillions -and servants at the small village of Kittlitz, some forty miles from -here, just over the Lusatian border. He corroborated, in fact, greatly -to my joy, all that I had been told; for I had had an uneasy fear -upon me, now and again, as I marched home in the evening chill, that -I had been too ready to lend credence to a romantic and improbable -story. But, better than all, Schultz, having felt a special curiosity -concerning visitors from his own country, had, despite the attempt to -keep the matter secret, contrived to satisfy himself to the full as to -their identity. And thus did I, to my no small triumph, from the first -day easily penetrate the ill-guarded incognita. - -The beautiful wandering Princess was the only daughter of the old -reigning house of Lausitz-Rothenburg; and it was from Georgenbrunn, -where she had been on a visit to her aunt the Dowager Duchess of -Saxony, that the second outbreak of the epidemic had driven her to -take refuge with the Countess Schreckendorf in our neighbourhood. - -Vastly satisfied with my discovery, and not a little fluttered by the -impending honour, I made elaborate preparations the next day against -the coming of such guests. We rifled the gardens, the greenhouses, and -the storerooms, and contrived a collation the elegance of which taxed -our resources to the uttermost. - -Not in peasant garb did I start at noon upon my romantic quest, but -in my finest riding suit of mulberry cloth embroidered with green and -silver, (of what good auguries did I not think when I remembered that -green and white were actually the colours of the Maison de Lusace, and -that in this discreet manner I could wear on my sleeve the mark of a -delicate homage?), ruffles of finest Mechlin fluttered on my throat and -wrists, and a hat of the very latest cock was disposed jauntily at the -exact angle prescribed by the Vienna mode. - -With my trim fellows behind me, and with as perfect a piece of -horseflesh between my knees as the Emperor himself could ever hope to -bestride, I set out in high delight and anticipation. - -Now, on this freezing winter’s night, when I look back upon those -days and the days that followed, it seems to me as though it were all -a dream. The past events are wrapped to memory in a kind of haze, -out of which certain hours marked above the rest stand out alone in -clearness.—That particular day stands forth perhaps the clearest of -all. - -I remember that the Princess Ottilie looked even more queenly to my -mind than at first, with her fair hair powdered and a patch upon the -satin whiteness of her chin. In the complacency of my young man’s -vanity, I was exceedingly elated that she should have considered -it worth while to adorn herself for me. I remember, too, that the -lady-in-waiting examined me critically, and cast a look of approval -upon my altered appearance; that she spoke less and that her mistress -spoke more than upon our first meeting; that even the presence, mute, -dark, and scowling, of their female attendant could not spoil the -pleasure of our intercourse. - -In the vineyards, it is true, an incident occurred which for a moment -threatened to mar my perfect satisfaction. The peasant girls—it is the -custom of the country on the appearance of strangers in the midst of -their work—gathered round each lady, surrounding her in wild dancing -bands, threatening in song to load her shoulders with a heavy hodful -of grapes unless she paid a ransom. It was of course most unseemly, -considering the quality of the company I was entertaining, and I had -not foreseen the possibility of such a breach of respect. Never before, -it was evident, in the delicately nurtured life of the Princess, had -such rough amusement been allowed to approach her. This being the -case, it was not astonishing that the admirable composure of her usual -attitude should break down—her dignity give way to the emotion of -fear. She called—nay, she screamed—to me for help. The while her -pert lady-in-waiting, no whit abashed, laughed back at her circle of -grinning sunburnt prancers, threw mocking good-humoured gibes at them -in German, and finally was sharp enough to draw her purse and pay -for her footing, crying out to her mistress to do the same. But the -latter was in no state to listen to advice, and, alas! I found myself -powerless to deliver the distressed lady. In my ignorance of their -language I could do nothing short of use brute force to control my -savages, who were after all (it seems) but acting in good faith upon an -old-established privilege. So I was fain, in my turn, to summon Schultz -to the rescue from a distant part of the ground. He, practical fellow, -made no bones about the matter; with a bellow and a knowing whirl of -his cane every stroke of which told with a dull thwack, he promptly -dispersed the indiscreet merrymakers. - -I suppose it is my English blood that rises within me at the sight of -a woman struck. Upon the impulse of the first moment I had well-nigh -wrenched the staff from his hands and laid it about his shoulders; -but fortunately, on second thought, I had wisdom enough to refrain -from an act which would have been so fatal to all future discipline. -Nevertheless, as I stood by, a passive spectator of it, the blood -mounted, for very shame, to my cheek, and I felt myself degraded to the -level of my administrator’s brutality. - -The poor fools fell apart, screaming between laughter and pain. -One handsome wench I marked, indeed, who withdrew to the side of a -sullen gipsy-looking fellow, her husband or lover apparently; and as -she muttered low in his ear they both cast looks charged with such -murderous import, not only at the uncompromising justiciary, but also -at me, and the man’s hand stole instinctively to his back with so -significant a gesture, that I realised for the first time quite fully -that there might be good reasons for János’s precautions anent the -lord’s precious person when the lord took his walks abroad. - -Another girl passed me close by, sobbing aloud, as she returned to her -labour. She rubbed her shoulder sorely, and the tears hopped off the -rim of her fat cheeks, contorted like those of a blubbering child. In -half-ashamed and sneaking fashion, yet unable to resist the urging of -my heart, I followed her behind the next row of vines and touched her -on the arm. - -She recognised me with a start, and I, all fearful of being noticed by -the others, in haste and without a word—as what word could I find in -which to communicate with a Slovack?—hastily dropped a consolatory -coin, the first that met my touch, into her palm. - -It was a poor plain creature with dull eyes, coarse lips, and matted -hair, and she gazed at me a moment stupidly bewildered. But the next -instant, reading I know not what of sympathy and benevolence in my -face, as a dog may read in his master’s eyes, she fell at my feet, -letting the gold slip out of her grasp that she might the better seize -my hand in hers and cover it with kisses, pouring forth the while a -litany of gratitude, as unintelligible to me as if she had been indeed -a dog whining at my feet. - -To put an end to the absurd situation, distasteful to my British -free-born pride for all my foreign training, I pushed her from me and -turned away, to find the lady-in-waiting at my elbow. - -Instead, however, of making my weakness a mark for her wit, this -latter, to my great relief, and likewise to my astonishment, looked -wistfully from the ugly besmeared face to the coin lying on the black -soil, then at my countenance, which at that moment was, I felt, that of -a detected schoolboy. And then, without a word, she followed me back to -her mistress’s side. - -My august visitor had not yet regained her wonted serenity. Still -fluttered, she showed me something of a pouting visage. I thought to -discern in her not only satisfaction at the punishment she had seen -administered, but some resentment at my passive attitude. And this, I -confess, surprised me in her, who seemed so gentle and womanly. But I -told myself then that it was but natural in one born as she was to a -throne. - -On the other hand, while I confounded myself in excuses and -explanations, blaming myself for having (through my inexperience of -this country) neglected to prevent the possibility of so untoward an -incident, I heard behind me the voice of the young Court lady, rating -Schultz in most explicit German for the heaviness of his hand upon my -folk. And, as the Princess gradually became mollified towards me and -showed me once again her own smiling graciousness, I contrasted her -little show of haughtiness with the unreserve of her companion, and -convinced myself that it did but become her (being what she was). The -while I watched Mademoiselle Ottilie, mingling with peasants as if she -had been born among them, with an ever renewed wonder that she should -have been chosen for the high position she occupied. - -Later on my guest, according to her promise, condescended to rest and -refresh herself in the castle. This was the culminating moment of a -golden afternoon. I felt the full pride of possession when I led her -in through the old halls that bore the mark of so many centuries of -noble masters; although indeed, as a Jennico, I had no inherited right -to peacock in the glories of the House of Tollendhal. But, at each -portrait before which she was gracious enough to halt, I took care to -speak of some notable contemporary among the men and women of my own -old line, in that distant enchanted island of the North, where the men -are so brave and strong and the women so fair. And, without stretching -any point, I am sure the line of Jennico lost nothing in the comparison. - -She was, I saw, beyond mistake impressed. I rejoiced to note that I -was rapidly becoming a person of importance in her eyes. Even the -lady-in-waiting continued to measure me with an altered and thoughtful -look. - -Between the eating of our meal together—which, as I said, was quite -a delicate little feast, and did honour to my barefooted kitchen -retinue—and the departure of my visitors, I took them through many -of the chambers, and showed them some of the treasures, quaint -antiquities, and relics that my great-uncle had inherited or himself -collected. On a little table under his picture—yonder on that wall -it hangs before me—I had spread forth in a glass case, with a sort -of tender and pious memory of the rigid old hero, his own personal -decorations and honours, from the first cross he had won in comparative -youth to the last blazing order that a royal hand had pinned over the -shrunken chest of the field-marshal. In this portrait, painted some -five years before his death, my uncle had insisted on appearing full -face, with a fine scorn of any palliation of the black patch or the -broken jaw. It is a grim enough presentment in consequence,—the artist -having evidently rather relished his task,—and sometimes, indeed, when -I am alone here in this great room at night, and it seems as if the -candle-light does but serve to heighten the gloom of the shadows, I -find my uncle’s one eye following me with so living a sternness that I -can scarce endure it. - -But that day of which I am writing, I thought there was benignity in -the fierce orb as it surveyed such honourable company, and even an -actual touch of geniality in the set of the black patch. - -As I opened the case, both the ladies fell, women-like, to fingering -the rich jewels. There was a snuff-box set around with diamonds, upon -the lid of which was painted a portrait of the Dauphine. This, Maria -Theresa had herself given to my uncle on the occasion of her daughter’s -marriage, to which it was deemed my uncle’s firm attitude in council -over the Franco-Austrian difficulty had not a little contributed. - -With a cry of admiration, the Princess took it up. “Ach, what -diamonds!” she said. I looked from the exquisite face on the ivory to -the no less exquisite countenance bending above it, and I was struck by -the resemblance which had no doubt unconsciously been haunting me ever -since I first met her. The arch of the dark eyebrow, the supercilious -droop of the eyelid, the curve of the short upper lip, and the pout of -the full under one, even the high poise of the head on the long throat, -were curiously similar. I exclaimed upon the coincidence, while the -Princess flushed with a sort of mingled pleasure and bashfulness. - -Mademoiselle Ottilie took up the miniature in her turn, and, after -gravely comparing it with her own elfish, sunburnt visage in the glass, -gazed at her mistress; then, heaving a lugubrious sigh, she assented -to my remarks, adding, however, that there was no ground for surprise, -as the Princess Marie Ottilie was actually cousin to her Royal Highness -the Dauphine. - -The Princess blushed again, and lifted up her hand as if to warn her -companion. But the latter, with her almost uncanny perspicacity, -continued, turning to me: - -“Of course, M. de Jennico” (she had at last mastered my name)—“of -course, M. de Jennico has found out all about us by this time, and is -perfectly aware of her Highness’s identity.” - -Then she added, and her eyes danced: - -“Since M. de Jennico is so fond of genealogy” (among the curiosities of -the place I had naturally shown them my uncle’s monumental pedigree), -“he can amuse himself in tracing the connection and relationships—no -doubt he has the ’Almanach de Gotha’—between the houses of Hapsburg -and the Catholic house of Lausitz-Rothenburg.” - -And indeed, although she meant this in sarcasm, when, after I had -escorted them home, I returned, through the mists and shades of -twilight, to my solitude (now peopled for me with delightful present, -and God knows what fantastic future, visions), I did produce that -excellent new book, the “Almanach de Gotha,” and found great interest -in tracing the blood-relation between the Dauphine and the fairest of -princesses. And afterwards, moved by some spirit of vainglory, I amused -myself by comparing on the map the relative sizes of the Duchy of -Lausitz and the lands of Tollendhal. - -And next I was moved to unroll once again my uncle’s pedigree, and to -study the fine chain of noble links of which I stand the last worthy -Jennico, when something that had been lying unformed in my mind during -these last hours of strange excitement suddenly took audacious and -definite shape. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -WHAT first entered my brain as the wildest possibility grew rapidly -to a desire which possessed my whole being with absolute passion. The -situation was in itself so singular and tantalising, and the Princess -was so beautiful a woman, to be on these terms of delicious intimacy -with the daughter of one of Europe’s sovereigns (a little sovereign it -is true, but great by race and connection), to meet her constantly in -absolute defiance of all the laws of etiquette, yet to see her wear -through it all as unapproachable a dignity, as serene an aspect of -condescension, as though she were presiding at her father’s Court—it -was enough, surely, to have turned the head of a wiser man than myself! - -It was not long before Mademoiselle Ottilie, the lady-in-waiting, -discovered the secret madness of my thoughts—in the light of what -has since occurred I can truly call it so. And she it was who, for -purposes of her own, shovelled coals on the fire and fanned the flame. -One way or another, generally on her initiative, but always by her -arrangement, we three met, and met daily. - -On the evening of a day passed in their company, with the impression -strong upon me of the Princess’s farewell look, which had held, I -fancied, something different to its wont; with the knowledge that I -had, unrebuked, pressed and kissed that fair hand after a fashion more -daring than respectful, with my blood in a fever and my brain in a -whirl, now seeming sure of success, now coldly awake to my folly, I -bethought me of taking counsel again with my great-uncle’s pedigree. -And heartened by the proofs that the blood of Jennico was good enough -for any alliance, I fell to completing the document by bringing it -up to date as far as concerned myself. Now, when I in goodly black -letters had set down my own cognomen so fair upon the parchment, I was -further seized with the fancy to fill in the space left blank for my -future marriage; and I lightly traced in pencil, opposite the words -“Basil Jennico, Lord of Tollendhal,” the full titles and names, which -by this time I had studied till I knew them off by heart, of her Serene -Highness the Princess Marie Caroline Dorothée Josephine Charlotte -Ottilie of Lausitz. - -It made such a pretty show after all that had gone before, and it -brought such visions with it of the glories the name of Jennico might -yet rise to, that I could not find it in me to erase it again, and so -left it as it stood, telling myself, as I rolled up the great deed -again and hooked it in its place beneath my uncle’s portrait, that it -would not be my fault if the glorious entry did not remain there for -ever. - -The next time the ladies visited me, Mademoiselle Ottilie—flitting -like a little curious brown moth about the great room, dancing -pirouettes beneath my uncle’s portrait, and now and again pausing -to make a comical grimace at his forbidding countenance, while I -entertained her mistress at its further end—must needs be pricked by -the desire to study the important document, which I had, as I have -said, already submitted to her view. - -Struck by her sudden silence and stillness, I rose and crossed the -room to find her with the parchment rolled out before her, absorbed in -contemplation, her elbows on the table, her face leaning on her hands. -With a fierce rush of blood to my cheeks, in a confusion that set every -pulse throbbing, I attempted to withdraw from her the evidence of what -must seem the most impudent delusion. But she held tight with her -elbows, and then, disregarding my muttered explanation that I intended -to rub out at once the nonsense I had written in a moment of idleness, -she laid her small finger upon the place, and, looking at me gravely, -said: - -“Why not?” - -The whole room whirled round with me. - -“My God,” I cried, “don’t mock me!” - -But she, with a new ring of feeling in her voice, said earnestly: - -“She has such misery before her if her father carries out his will.” - -To hear these words from her, who of all others must be in her -mistress’s confidence, ought, however amazing to reason and common -sense, to have been a spur to one whose ambition soared so high. -Nevertheless, I hesitated. To be honest with myself, not from a lover’s -diffidence, from a lover’s dread of losing even hope, but rather from -the fear of placing myself in an absurd position—of risking the deadly -humiliation of a refusal. - -I dared therefore nothing but soft looks, soft words, soft pressures of -the hand; and the Princess received them all as she received everything -that had gone before. From one in her position this might seem of -itself encouragement enough in all conscience; but I waited in vain -for some break in her unruffled composure—some instant in which I -could mark that the Princess was lost in the woman. And so what drew -me most to her kept me back. At the same time a rooted distrust of the -little lady-in-waiting, a certain contempt, too, for her personality -as belonging to that roture so despised of my great-uncle and myself, -prevented me from placing confidence in her. - -But she, nevertheless, precipitated the climax. It was three days after -the scene in my great-uncle’s room, one Sunday morning, beside the -holy-water font in the little chapel of Schreckendorf Castle, whither, -upon the invitation of its present visitors—my own priest being ill, -poor man, of an ague—I had betaken myself to hear mass. The Princess -had passed out first, and had condescended, smiling, to brush the -pious drops from my finger; but Mademoiselle Ottilie paused as she too -touched with hers my outstretched hand, and said in my ear as crossly -as a spoilt child: - -“You are not a very ardent lover, M. de Jennico. The days are going by; -the Countess Schreckendorf is beginning to speak quite plain again. It -is impossible that her Highness should be left in this liberty much -longer.” - -I caught her hand as she would have hurried away. - -“If I could be sure that this is not some foolish jest,” I said in a -fierce whisper in her ear. - -And she to me back again as fiercely: - -“You are afraid!” she said with a curling lip. - -That settled it. - -I rode straight home, though I was expected to have joined the ladies -in some expedition. I spent the whole day in a most intolerable state -of agitation; and then, my mind made up, I sat down after supper to -write, beneath my uncle’s portrait. And the first half of the night -went by in writing and re-writing the letter which was to offer the -hand and heart of Basil Jennico to the Princess Marie Ottilie of -Lausitz. - -I wrote and tore up till the ground around me was strewn with the -fragments of paper; and now I seemed too bold, when the whole -incongruity and absurdity of my desire took tangible form to mock me in -the silence of the night; and now too humble, when in the flickering -glimmer of candle-light my great-uncle would frown down upon me, and I -could hear him say: - -“Remember that thou Jennico bist!” - -At last a letter lay before me by which I resolved to abide. I believe -that it was an odd mixture of consciousness of my own temerity in -aspiring so high, and at the same time of conviction that the house of -Jennico could only confer, and not receive, honour. I even proposed to -present myself boldly with my credentials at the Court of Lausitz (and -here of course the famous pedigree came in once more), and I modestly -added that, considering my wealth and connections, I ventured to hope -the Duke, her father, might favourably consider my pretensions. - -This written and sealed, I was able to sleep for the rest of the night, -but was awake again with dawn and counting the minutes until I could -decently despatch a mounted messenger to Schreckendorf. - -When the man rode forth I believe it was a little after eight; and I -know that it was on the stroke of one when I heard his horse’s hoofs -ringing again in the courtyard. But time had no measure for the strange -agony of doubt in which I passed those hours, not (once again have I to -admit it) because I loved her too dearly to bear the thought of life -without her, but because of my fierce pride, which would not brook the -shame of a refusal. - -I called in a frenzy to hurry the lagging fool into my presence; and -yet when he laid the letter on my table I stared at the great seal -without daring to open it. And when at last I did so my hand trembled -like an aspen leaf. - - “Monsieur de Jennico,” it began abruptly, “I ought to call you mad, - for what you propose is nothing less indeed than madness. You little - know the fetters that bind such lives as mine, and I could laugh and - weep together to think of what the Duke, my father, would say were you - really to present yourself before him as you suggest.” - -So it ran, and as I read I thought I was contemned, and in my fury -would have crushed the letter in my hand, when a word below caught my -eye, and with an intensity of joy on a par only with the passion of -wounded pride that had preceded it, I read on: - - “But, dear Monsieur de Jennico,” so ran the letter then, “since you - love me, and since you honour me by telling me so; since you offer me - so generously all you have to give, I will be honest with you and tell - you that my present life has no charm for me. I know only too well - what the future holds for me in my own home, and I am willing to trust - myself to you and to your promises rather than face the lot already - drawn for me. - - “Therefore, Monsieur de Jennico, if it be true that, as you say, all - your happiness depends upon my answer, I trust it may be for the - benefit of both that I should say ’Yes’ to you to-day. But what is - to be must be secretly done, and soon Are you willing, to obtain - your desire, to risk a little, when I am willing to risk so much in - granting it? If so, meet my lady-in-waiting to-day at six, alone, - where we first met, and she will tell you all that I have decided.” - -It was signed simply—“Marie Ottilie.” - -There was no hint of answering love to my passionate declaration, but -I did not miss it. I had won my Princess, and the few clear words in -which she laid bare before me the whole extent of my presumption only -added to the exquisite zest of my conquest. - -It was a very autumn day—autumn comes quickly in these lands. It had -been raining, and I rode down from the higher level into a sea of white -writhing mists. It was still and warm—one of those heavy days that -as a rule seem like to clog the blood and fill one with reasonless -foreboding. I remember all that now; but I know that there was no place -for foreboding in my exulting heart as I sallied out full early to the -trysting-place. - -The mare I rode, because of the close atmosphere and her own headstrong -temper, was in a great lather when I arrived at the little pine-wood, -and I dismounted and began to lead her gently to and fro (for I loved -the pretty creature, who was as fond and skittish as a woman) that she -might cool by degrees and take no injury. I was petting and fondling -her sleek coat, when of a sudden, without my having had the least -warning of her coming, I turned to find Mademoiselle Ottilie before me. - -She looked at me straight with one of those odd searching looks which I -had now and again seen her fix upon me; and without either “Good-even” -or “How-do-you-do,” she said abruptly: - -“I saw you coming all the way along the white road from the moment it -turns the corner, and I saw how your mare fought you, and how difficult -it was to bring her past the great beam of the well yonder. You made -her obey, but you have not left a scratch upon her sides—yet you wear -spurs.” - -She looked at me with the most earnest inquiry, and, ruffled by the -futility of the question when so much was at stake, I said to her -somewhat sharply: - -“What has this to do, Mademoiselle, with our meeting here to-day?” - -“It has this to do, Monsieur,” she answered me composedly, “that her -Highness’s interests are as dear to me as my own, and that I am glad -to learn that the man she is to wed has a merciful heart. I know a -man,” she went on, “in our own country who passes for the finest, the -bravest, the most gallant, but when he brings a horse in from the -chase its legs will be trembling and it will be panting so that it can -scarce draw breath, because the rider is so brave and dashing that he -must go the fastest of all, and he will have left his mark upon the -poor beast’s sides in great furrows where he has ploughed them with his -spurs. He is greatly admired by every one; but his horses die, and his -hounds shrink when he moves his hand: that is what my country-people -call being manly—being a real cavalier!” - -The scorn of her tone was something beyond the mere girlish pettishness -I generally associated with her; but to me, except as she represented -or influenced her mistress, she had never had any interest. And so -again impatiently I brought her back to the object of our meeting. - -“Her Highness has entrusted you with a message?” I asked. - -“Her Highness would first of all know,” said the maid of honour, “if -you fully realise the difficulties you may bring upon yourself by the -marriage you propose?” - -“The Princess,” said I proudly, “has condescended to say that she will -trust herself to me. After that, as far as I am concerned, there can be -no question of difficulty. As for her, if she will consent to accompany -me to England, no trouble or reproach need ever reach her ears. If she -prefers to remain here, I shall none the less be able to protect my -wife, were it against the whole Empire itself.” - -“That is the right spirit,” said Mademoiselle Ottilie, nodding her -head approvingly. “What you say has not got a grain of common sense, -but that is all as it should be. And next,” she continued, drawing -closer to me, for there was a twilight dimness about us, and standing -on tiptoe in the endeavour to bring her gaze on a level with mine, “her -Highness wishes to know”—she dropped her voice a little—“if you love -her very much?” - -As if the gaze of those yellow hazel eyes of hers had cast a sudden -revealing light upon my soul, I stood abashed and dumb, self-convicted -by my silence. Love! Did I love her whom I would make my wife? Taken -up with schemes of vainglory and ambition, what room had I in my heart -for love? In all my triumph at having won her, was there one qualifying -thread of tenderness? Would I, in fine, have sought the woman, -beautiful though she was, were she not the Princess? - -In a sort of turmoil I asked myself these things under the compelling -earnestness of Mademoiselle Ottilie’s eyes, and everything in myself -looked strange and hideous to myself, as beneath a vivid lightning -flash the most familiar scene assumes a singular and appalling aspect. - -In another moment she moved away and turned aside from me; and then, -even as after the lightning flash all things resume their normal -aspect, I wondered at my own weak folly, and my blood rose hotly -against the impertinence that had evoked it. - -“By what right,” said I, “Mademoiselle, do you ask me such a question? -If it be indeed by order of her Highness, pray tell her that when she -will put it to me herself I will answer it to herself.” - -The maid of honour wheeled round with her arch, inscrutable smile. - -“Oh!” she said, “believe me, you have answered me very well. I was -already convinced of the sincerity and ardour of your attachment to -... her Highness—so convinced, indeed, that I am here to-night for -the sole purpose of helping both you and her to your most insane of -marriages. The Princess is accustomed to rely upon me for everything, -and upon me, therefore, falls the whole burden of preparation and -responsibility. Whether the end of all this will be a dungeon for the -lady-in-waiting, if indeed the Duke does not have her executed for -high treason, is naturally a contingency which neither of you will -consider worth a moment’s thought. It is quite certain, however, that -without me you would both do something inconceivably stupid, and ruin -all. But, voyons, Monsieur de Jennico,” she went on with sudden gravity -of demeanour, “this is no time for pleasantry. It is a very serious -matter. You are wasting precious moments in a singularly light-hearted -fashion, it seems to me.” - -The reproach came well from her! But she left me no time to protest. - -“I am here,” she said, “as you know, to tell you what the Princess has -decided, and how we must act if the whole thing is not to fail. First -of all, the arrival of some important person from the Court of Lausitz -may take place any day, and then—’Bonjour!’” She blew an airy kiss and -waved her hand, while with a cold thrill I realised the irrefutable -truth of her words. - -“If it is to be,” she went on, unconsciously repeating almost the exact -text of her mistress’s letter to me, “it must be at once and in secret. -Mind, not a word to a soul till all is accomplished! On your honour I -lay it! And she, her Highness, enjoins it upon you not to betray her to -any single human being before you have acquired the right to protect -her. It is surely not too much to ask!” - -She spoke with deep solemnity, and yet characteristically cut short my -asseverations. - -“And, that being settled, and you being willing to take this lady for -your wife,—probably without a stiver, and certainly with her father’s -curse” (I smiled proudly in the arrogance of my heart: all Duke as he -was I did not doubt, once the first storm over, but that my exalted -father-in-law would find very extenuating circumstances for his wilful -daughter’s choice).—“that being settled,” continued Miss Ottilie, “it -only remains to know—are you prepared to enter the marriage state two -nights hence?” - -“I wish,” said I, and could not keep the note of exultation from my -voice at having the rare prize thus actually within my reach—“I wish -you would ask me for some harder proof of my complete devotion to her -Highness.” - -“Well, then,” she said hastily, whispering as if the pines could -overhear us, “so be it! I have not been idle to-day, and I have laid -the plot. You know the little church in that wretched village of -Wilhelmsdhal we posted through two days ago? The priest there is very -old and very poor and like a child, because he has always lived among -the peasants; and now indeed he is almost too old to be their priest -any more. I saw him to-day, and told him that two who loved each other -were in great straits because people wanted to wed the maiden to a bad -and cruel man,—that is true, Monsieur de Jennico,—I told him that -these two would die of grief, or lose their souls, perhaps, were they -separated, because of the love they bore each other.... There, sir, I -permitted myself a poetical license! To be brief, I promised him in -your name what seemed a great sum for his poor, a thousand thalers—you -will see to that—and he has promised me to wed you on Wednesday night, -at eight of the clock, secretly, in his poor little church. He is so -old and so simple it was like misleading a child, but nevertheless, -the cause being good, I trust I may be forgiven. Drive straight to the -church, and there you will find one who will direct you. The Princess -will not see you again till she meets you before the altar. You will -bring her home to your castle. A maid will accompany her. And that is -all. Adieu, Monsieur de Jennico.” - -She stretched out her hand and her voice trembled. - -“You will not see the maid of honour perhaps ever again. Her task is -done,” she added. - -I took her hand, touched by her accent of earnestness, and gratefully -awoke to the fact that she alone had made the impossible possible to -my desire. I looked at her face, close to mine in the faint light; and -as she smiled at me, a little sadly, I was struck with the delicate -beauty of the curve of her lip, and the exquisite finishing touch of -the dimple that came and went beside it, and the thought flashed into -my mind—“That little maid may one day blossom into the sort of woman -that drives men mad.” - -She slipped her hand from mine as I would have kissed it, and nodded at -me with a return of the cool impudence that had so often vexed me. - -“Good-bye, gallant cavalier,” she said mockingly. - -She whistled as if for a dog, and I saw the black figure of the nurse -start from the shadow of the trees a few yards away, and, meeting, they -joined in the mist and merged swiftly into it. - -Whereupon I mounted the mare, who was sorely tried by her long waiting; -and as we cantered homewards I was haunted, through the extraordinary -blaze of my triumphant thoughts, to my own exasperation and surprise, -oddly and unwillingly, by the arch sweetness of the maid of honour’s -smile. - -And once (I blushed all alone in the darkness for the shame of such -a thought in my mind at such a moment) I caught myself picturing the -sweetness a man might find in pressing his lips upon the tantalising -dimple. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -THE night before my wedding-day—it was natural enough—there was a -restlessness upon me which would not let me sleep, or think of sleep. - -When supper was over I bade my servants retire. They had thought -me cracked, and with reason, I believe, for the way in which I had -wandered about the house all day, moving and shifting and preparing, -and giving orders to no seeming purpose. I sat down in my uncle’s room, -and, drawing the chair he had died in opposite his portrait, I held a -strange conclave with (as I believed then) his ghost. I know now that -if any spirit communed with me that night it was my own evil angel. - -I had had the light set where it best illuminated the well-known -countenance. At my elbow was a goodly bottle of his famous red wine. - -“Na, old one,” said I aloud, leaning back in my chair in luxurious -self-satisfaction and proud complacency, “am I doing well for the -old name? Who knows if one day thou countest not kings among thy -descendants!” - -Methought the old man grinned back at me, his hideous tusked grin. - -“‘Tis well, Kerlchen,” he said. - -I unrolled the pedigree. That cursed parchment, what a part it has -played in my life!—as evil a part, as fatal as the apple by which our -first parents fell. It is pride that damns us all! And I read aloud the -entries I had made: they sounded very well, and so my uncle thought—or -seemed to—for I swear he winked at me and said: - -“Write it in ink, lad; that must stand clear, for das klingt schön.” - -And then, though I was very comfortable, I had to get up and find the -ink and engross the noble record of my marriage, filling in the date -with care, for my uncle, dead or alive, was not one to disobey. - -“‘Tis good,” then again said my uncle, “and thou dost well. But -remember, without I had done so well, lad, thou hadst not risen thus. -And what,” added my uncle, sniggering, “will the Brüderl say when he -hears the news—hey, nephew Basil?” - -I had thought of that myself: it was another glorious pull over the -renegade! - -Whereupon my uncle—it was surely the proud fiend himself bent upon my -destruction—fell to telling me I must write to my family at once, -that the letter might be despatched in the morning. - -I protested. I was bound to secrecy, I told him. But he scowled, -and would have it that I must remember my duty to my mother, and he -further made me a very long sermon upon the curses that will befall a -bad child. And thus egged on—and what could I do?—I indited a very -flaming document indeed, and under the seal of the strictest confidence -made my poor mother acquainted with all the greatness her son was -bringing into his family, and bade her rejoice with him. - -The night was well worn when I had finished, and the bottle of potent -Burgundy was nearly out too. Then, meaning to rise and withdraw, I fell -asleep in my chair. It was grey dawn before I awoke, and I was cold as -I stretched myself and staggered to my feet. In the weird thin light -my uncle’s face now shone out drawn and austere, with something of the -look I remembered it to have borne in death. - -But it was the dawn of my wedding-day, and I went to my bed—stumbling -over old János, who sat, the faithful dog! asleep on the threshold—to -dream of my wedding ... a wedding with royal pomp, to the blare of -trumpets and the acclamations of a multitude: - -“Jennico hoch—hoch dem edlen Jennico!” - -The village of Wilhelmsdhal is quite an hour’s drive (even at the pace -of my good horses) along the downhill road which leads from my uplifted -mansion into the valley land; it takes two hours for the return way. - -For safety’s sake I made the announcement of my approaching marriage -to the household as late in the day as possible, and, though sorely -tempted to betray the exalted rank of the future mistress to the -astonished major-domo, to whom János, with his usual imperturbability, -interpreted my commands, I refrained, with a sense that the impression -created would only after all be heightened if the disclosure were -withheld till the actual apparition of the newly-made wife. - -But in the vain arrogance of my delight I ordered every detail of the -reception which was to greet us, and which I was determined should be -magnificent enough to make up for the enforced hole-and-corner secrecy -of the marriage ceremony. - -Schultz the factor, my chief huntsman, and the highest among my people -were to head torch-light processions of their particular subordinates -at stated places along the avenue that led upwards to the house. -There was to be feasting and music in the courtyard. Flowers were to -be strewn from the very threshold of her new home to the door of my -Princess’s bridal chamber. - -God knows all the extravagance I planned! It makes me sick now to think -back on it! - -And the wedding! Ah! that was a wedding to be proud of! - -It was a dull and cloudy evening, with a high, moist wind that came -in wild gusts, sweeping over the plains and tearing the leaves from -the forest trees, bringing with it now a swift moonlit clearing upon -the lowering face of heaven, now only thicker darkness and torrents of -rain. It was all but night already in the forest roads when I started, -and quite night as I emerged from out of the shelter of the mountains -into the flat country. János sat on the box and my chasseurs hung on -behind, and my four horses kept up a splendid pace upon the level -ground. I had dressed very fine, as became a bridegroom; but fortunate -it was that I had brought a dark cloak with me, for a fearful burst -of storm-rain came down upon me as I jumped out from the carriage at -the church door. And indeed, despite that protection, my fine white -satin clothes were splashed with mud, my carefully powdered queue sadly -disarranged in the few steps I had to take before reaching shelter, for -the wind blew a very hurricane, and the rain came down like the rain -of the deluge. - -The church porch was lit only by an ill-trimmed wick floating in a -saucer of oil; but by the flickering light, envious and frail as it -was, I discerned at once the figure of Mademoiselle Ottilie’s nurse -awaiting us. Without a word she beckoned to me to follow her into the -church. - -The place struck cold and damp with a death-like closeness after the -warm blustering air I had just left. It was even darker than the porch -outside, its sole illumination proceeding from the faint glow of the -little sanctuary lamp and the sullen yellow flame of two or three -tallow candles stuck on spikes before a rough wooden statue on a pillar -at one side. I, flanked by János and his two satellites, followed the -gaunt figure to the very altar rails, where, with an imperious gesture, -she signed to me to take my place. - -Before turning to go she stood still a second looking at me, and -methought—or it may have been a fancy born of the dismal place and -the dismal gloom—that I had never seen a human countenance express so -much hatred as did that woman’s in the mysterious gleam of the lamp. My -heart contracted with an omen of forthcoming ill. - -Then I heard her feet go down the aisle, the door open and close, -and we were left alone. In the silence of the church—the most -poverty-stricken and desolate, the most miserable, the most ruined to -be yet used as the House of God, I think I had ever entered—at the -foot of the altar of my faith, a sudden misgiving seized upon me. How -would all this end? I was going to bind myself for life with the most -solemn vows. Would all the honour and glory of the alliance compensate -me for the loss of my liberty? - -I was only twenty-six, and I knew of her who was henceforth to be my -second self no more, rather less, than I knew of any of the barefooted -maids that slipped grinning about the passages of Tollendhal. To be -frank with myself, the glamour of gratified vanity once stripped from -before the eye of my inmost soul, what was the naked, hideous truth? -I had no more love for her—man for woman—than for rosy Kathi or -black-browed Sarolta! - -Here my reflections were broken in upon by that very patter of naked -soles that had been in my thoughts, and a little ragged boy, in a -dilapidated surplice, ran round the sanctuary from some back door, -and fell to lighting a pair of candles on the altar, a proceeding -which only seemed once more to heighten the darkness. Presently, in a -surplice and cassock as tattered as his acolyte’s, with long white hair -lying unkempt upon his shoulders, an old priest—in sooth, the oldest -man I have ever seen alive, I believe—came forth with tottering steps; -before him the tattered urchin, behind him a sacristan well-nigh as -antique as himself, and as utterly pauperised. - -These were to be the ministers of my grand marriage! - -But almost immediately a fresh clamour of opening doors, and a light, -sedate footfall, struck my ear, and all doubt and dismay disappeared -like magic. Closely enveloped in the folds of a voluminous dark velvet -cloak, with its hood drawn forward over her head, and beneath this -shade her face muffled in the gathers of a white lace veil, I knew the -stately height of my bride as she advanced towards me—and the sight -of her, the sound of her brave step, set my heart dancing with the old -triumph. - -She stood beside me, and as the words were spoken I thought no more of -the mean surroundings, of the evil omens, of the responsibilities and -consequences of my act. It was nothing to me now that the old priest -who wedded us, and his companion who ministered to him, should look -more like mouldering corpses than living men—that the nurse’s burning -eyes should still seek my face with evil look. I had no thought to -spare for the position of my bride herself—her filial disobedience, -her loneliness—no feeling of tenderness for the touching character -of her confidence in me—no doubt as to her future happiness as my -wife, nor as to my capacity for compensating her for the sacrifice of -so much. I did not wonder at, nay, notice even, the absence of the -lady-in-waiting—that moving spirit of our courtship. My whole soul was -possessed with triumph. I was self-centred on my own success. The words -were spoken; my voice rang out boldly, but hers was the barest breath -of speech behind her muffling drapery. I slipped the ring (it had been -my aunt’s), with a passing wonder that it should prove so much too -large, upon the slender finger, that hardly protruded from a fall of -enveloping lace. - -We were drenched with a perfect shower of holy water out of a tin -bucket; and then, man and wife, we went to the sacristy to sign our -names by the light of one smoking tallow candle. - -I dashed mine forth with splendid flourish—the good old name of -Jennico of Farringdon Dane and Tollendhal, all my qualifications, -territorial, military, and inherited. And she penned hers in the -flowing handwriting I already knew, Marie Ottilie: the lofty, simple -signature, as I thought with swelling heart, of sovereigns! - -I pressed into the old priest’s cold fingers, as he peered at us -from the book, right and left, with dull, bewildered eyes, in which -I thought to see the dawn of a vague misgiving, a purse bulging with -notes to the value of double the sum promised; and then, with her hand -upon my arm, I led her to my carriage. - -The rain had begun again and the wind was storming when we drove -off, my wife and I. And for a little while—a long time it seemed to -me—there was silence between us, broken only by the beating of the -drops against the panes of the carriage, and the steady tramp of my -horses’ hoofs on the wet road. Now that I had accomplished my wish, -a strange embarrassment fell upon me. I had no desire to speak of -love to the woman I had won. I had won her, I had triumphed—that was -sufficient. I would not have undone my deed for the world; but none the -less the man who finds himself the husband and has never been the lover -is placed in a singular position. - -I looked at the veiled figure beside me and wondered at its stillness. -The light of the little lantern inside the carriage flickered upon the -crimson of the velvet cloak and the white folds of the veil that hid -her face from me. Then I awoke to the consciousness of the sorry figure -I must present in her eyes, and, drawing from my pocket a ring,—the -richest I had been able to find among my aunt’s rich store,—I took the -hand that lay half hidden and passive beside me, meaning to slip the -jewel over the plain gold circlet I had already placed upon it. Now, -as I took the hand into my own, I was struck with its smallness, its -slenderness, its lightness; I remembered that even in the dark church, -and with but the tips of the fingers resting in my own, a similar -impression had vaguely struck me. I lifted it, spread out the little, -long, thin fingers—too often had I kissed the dimpled firm hand of her -Serene Highness not to know the difference! This was my wife’s hand; -there was my ring. But who was my wife? - -I felt like a man in a bad dream. I do not know if I spoke or not; but -every fibre of me was crying out aloud, as it were, in a frenzy. I -suppose I turned, or looked; at any rate my companion, as if in answer -to a question, said composedly: - -“Yes, sir, it is so.” At the same moment, putting up her veil with -her right hand, she disclosed to me the features of Ottilie, the -lady-in-waiting. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -I MUST have stared like a madman. For very fear of my own violence, I -dared not move or speak. Mademoiselle Ottilie, or, to call her by her -proper name, Madame de Jennico, very composedly removed her veil from -her hair, pushed back her hood, and withdrew the hand which I still -unconsciously clutched. Then she turned and looked at me as if waiting -for me to speak first. I said in a sort of whisper: - -“What does this mean?” - -“It means, Monsieur de Jennico, that, for your own good, you have been -deceived.” - -There was a little quiver in her voice. Was it fear? Was it mockery? I -thought the latter, and the strenuous control I was endeavouring to put -upon my seething passion of fury and bewilderment broke down. I threw -up my arms, the natural gesture of a man driven beyond bounds, and as -I did so felt the figure beside me make a sudden, abrupt movement. I -thought that she shrank from me—that she feared lest I, _I_, Basil -Jennico, would strike _her_, a woman! This aroused me at once to a -sense of my own position, and at the same time to one of bitterest -contempt for her. But as I wheeled round to gaze at her, I saw that -whatever charges might be laid upon her—and God knows she had wrought -a singular evil upon me!—the accusation of cowardice could not be part -of them. Her face showed white, indeed, in the pale light, her features -set; but her eyes looked fearlessly into mine. Every line of her figure -expressed the most dauntless determination. She was braced to endure, -ready to face, what she had drawn upon herself. This was no craven, -rather the very spirit of daring. - -“In God’s name,” I cried, “why have you done this?” - -“And did you think,” she said, looking at me, I thought, with a -sort of pity, “that princesses, out of fairy tales, are so ready to -marry lovers of low degree, no matter how rich or how gallant? Oh, I -know what you would say—that you are well-born; but for all that, -princesses do not wed with such as you, sir!” - -Every drop of my blood revolted against the smart of this humiliation. -Stammering and protesting, my wrath overflowed my lips. - -“But this deception,—this impossible, insane fraud,—what is its -object? What is _your_ object? You encouraged me—you incited me. -Confusion!” I cried and clasped my head. “I think I am going mad!” - -“Her Serene Highness thought that she would like to see me settled in -life,” said my bride, with the old look of derision on her face. - -I seized her hand. - -“It was the Princess’s plan, then?” I asked in a whisper; and it seemed -to me as if everything turned to crimson before my eyes. - -She met my look—and it must have been a terrible one—with the same -dauntlessness as before, and answered, after a little pause, with cool -deliberation: - -“Yes, it was the Princess’s plan.” - -The carriage drove on through the rain; and again there was silence -between us. My pulses beat loud in my ears; I saw, as if written in -fire, the whole devilish plot to humiliate me for my presumption. I saw -myself as I must appear to that high-born lady—a ridiculous aspirant -whose claim was too absurd even to be seriously dealt with. And she, -the creature who had lent herself to my shame, without whose glib -tongue and pert audacious counsels I had never presumed, who had dared -to carry out, smiling, so gross a fraud, to wear my ring and front me -still—how was I to deal with her? - -These were the thoughts that surged backward and forwards in my mind, -futile wreckage on stormy sea, in the first passion of my anger. - -“You know,” I said at last, and felt like a man who touches solid earth -at last, “that this is no marriage.” - -Her countenance expressed at this the most open amazement and the most -righteous indignation. - -“How, sir,” she cried—“has not the priest wedded us? Are we not of the -same faith, and does not the same Church bind us? Have not we together -received a most solemn sacrament? Have not you, Basil, and I, Marie -Ottilie, sworn faith to each other until death do us part? You may like -it or not, Monsieur de Jennico, but we are none the less man and wife, -as fast as Church can make us.” - -As she spoke she smiled again, and looked at me with that dimple coming -and going beside the curve of her lip. - -As they say men do at the point of some violent death, so I saw in the -space of a second my whole life stretched before me, past and future. - -I saw the two alternatives that lay to my hand, and their full -consequences. - -I knew what the audacious little deceiver beside me ignored—that it -rested upon my pleasure alone to acknowledge or not the validity of -this marriage. Let me take the step which as a man of honour I ought -to take, which as a Jennico and my uncle’s heir I was pledged in -conscience to take, it was to hold myself up to universal mockery—and -I should lay bare before a grinning world the whole extent of my -pretensions and their requital. - -On the other hand, let me keep my secret for a while and seemingly -accept my wife: the whole point of the cursed jest would fail. - -Let me show the Princess that my love for her was not so overpowering, -nor my disappointment so heart-breaking, but that I had been able to -find temporary compensation in the substitute with whom she had herself -provided me. There are more souls lost, I believe, through the fear of -ridicule than through all the temptations of the world, the flesh, and -the devil! - -My resolution was promptly taken: my revenge would be more exquisite -and subtle than the trick that had been played upon me. - -I would take her to my home, this damsel whom no feeling of maidenly -restraint, of womanly compassion, had kept from acting so base a part; -and for a while, at least, not all the world should guess but that -in winning her my dearest wish had been accomplished. Afterwards, -when I had tamed that insolent spirit, when I had taught this wild -tassel-gentle to come to my hand and fly at my bidding—and I smiled -to myself as I laid that plan which was full as cruel as the deception -that had been practised upon me, and which I am ashamed to set out in -black and white before me now—afterwards, when I chose to repudiate -the woman who had usurped my name through the most barefaced imposture, -if I knew the law both of land and Church, I could not be gainsaid. -I had warned her that this marriage was no marriage. What could a -gentleman do more? - -A sudden calmness fell over me; it struck me that the laugh would be on -my side after all. - -My companion was first to speak. She settled herself in the corner of -the carriage something like a bird that settles down in its nest, and, -still with her eyes, which now looked very dark in the uncertain light, -fixed upon me, said in a tone of the utmost security: - -“You can beat me of course, if you like, and you can murder me if you -are very, very angry; but you cannot undo what is done. I am your -wife!” She gave a little nod which was the perfection of impudence. -She was like some wild thing of the woods that has never seen a human -being before, and is absolutely fearless because of its absolute -ignorance. I ought to have pitied her, seeing how young, how childish, -she was. But though there sprang into my heart strange feelings, -and that dimple tempted me more and more, there was no relenting in -my angry soul. Only I told myself that my revenge would be sweet. -And I was half distraught, I think, between the conflict of pride, -disappointment, and the strange alluring charm that this being who had -so betrayed me was yet beginning to have upon me. - -The speed of our four horses was slackening; we were already on the -mountain road which led to my castle. There was a glimmer of moon -again, the rain-beat was silent on the panes, and I could see from -a turning in the road the red gleam of the torch-bearers whom I had -ordered for the bridal welcome. - -The monstrous absurdity of the situation struck me afresh, and my -resolution grew firmer. How could I expose myself, a poor tricked fool, -to the eyes of that people who regarded me as something not unlike a -demi-god? No, I would keep the woman. She had sought me, not I her. I -would keep her for a space at least, and let no man suspect that she -was not my choice. And then, in the ripeness of time, when I would sell -this old rook’s nest and betake me home to England as a dutiful nephew, -why, then my lady Princess should have her maid of honour back again, -and see if she would find it so easy to settle her in life once more! -What pity should I have upon her who had no pity for me, who had sold -her maiden pride in such a sordid barter for a husband? This was no -mere tool of a woman’s scorn. No! Contemned by her I had wooed, played -with, no doubt I had been; but I had seen enough of the relations of -the two girls not to know well who was the moving spirit in all their -actions. This lady had had an eye to her own interests while lending -herself to my humiliation. Thinking upon it now with as cool a brain as -I might,—and once I had settled upon my resolve, the first frenzy of -my rage died away,—I told myself that the new Madam Jennico lied when -she said it was altogether the Princess’s plan; and indeed I afterwards -heard from her own lips that in this I had guessed but a third of the -actual truth. - -And now, as we were drawing close to the first post where my -over-docile and zealous retainers were already raising a fearful -clamour, and I must perforce assume some attitude to face the people, -I turned to my strange bride, and said to her: - -“Do you think, then, it is the right of a husband to strike or slay his -wife? If so, I marvel that you should have been so eager to enter upon -the wedded state.” - -She put out her hand to me, and for the first time her composure -wavered. The tears welled into her eyes and her lip quivered. - -“No,” she said; “and therefore I chose you, Monsieur de Jennico, not -for your fine riches, not for your pedigree,”—and here, the little -demon! it seemed she could not refrain from a malicious smile under -the very mist of her tears,—“but because you are an Englishman, and -incapable of harshness to a woman.” - -“And so,” said I, not believing her disinterested asseveration a -whit, but with a queer feeling at my heart at once bitterly angry at -each word that betrayed the determination of her deceit and her most -unwomanly machinations, and yet, and yet strangely melted to her, “it -is reckoning on my weak good-nature that you have played me this trick?” - -“No, sir,” she said, flushing, “I reckoned on your manliness.” And then -she added, with the most singular simplicity: “I liked you, besides, -too well to see you unhappily married, and the other Ottilie would -have made you a wretched wife.” - -I burst out laughing, for, by the manes of my great-uncle, the -explanation was comic! And she fell to laughing too,—my servants must -have thought we were a merry couple! And, as she laughed and I looked -at her, knowing her now my own, and looking at her therefore with -other eyes, I deemed I had never seen a woman laugh to such bewitching -purpose! And though I was full of my cruel intent, and though I dubbed -her false and shameless and as deceitful a little cat as ever a man -could meet, yet the dimple drew me, and I put my arms around her and -kissed it. _As my lips touched hers I knew I was a lost man!_ - -The next moment we were surrounded with a tribe of leaping peasants, -the horses were plunging, torches were waving and casting shadows -upon the savage, laughing faces. If I had cursed myself for my happy -thought before, I cursed myself still more now; but the situation had -to be accepted. And the way in which my bride, blushing crimson from -my kiss,—she who had no blush to spare for herself before this night, -adapted herself to it was a marvel to me, as indeed all that I was to -see or learn of her during our brief moon of wedded life was likewise -to prove. - -I am bound to say that the Princess herself could not have behaved with -a better grace than this burgher daughter amid the wild peasants and -their almost Eastern fashion of receiving their liege lady. - -Within a little distance of the house it became impossible to advance -with the carriage, and we were fain to order a halt and alight all -in the stormy wind, and proceed on foot through the throng which had -gathered thick and close about the gates, and which even Schultz’s -stout cane failed to disperse. My wife—I did not call her so then -in my mind, but now I can call her by no other name—my wife passed -through them as if she had done nothing all her life but receive the -homage of the people. She gave her hand to be kissed to half a hundred -fierce lips; she smiled at the poor women who clutched the hem of her -gown and knelt before her. The flush my kiss had called into being had -not yet faded from her cheek; there was a light in her eye, a smile -upon her lip. As I looked at her and watched I could not but admit that -there was no need for me to feel ashamed of her, that night. - -I had sworn to give my bride a royal reception, and a royal reception -she received. - -Schultz had generously carried out his instructions. We sat down to a -sumptuous meal which would not have misbefitted the Emperor himself. -I could not eat. The acclamations and the rejoicings struck cold upon -my ear. But the bride—enigma to me then as now—sat erect in her great -chair at the other end of the great table, and smiled and drank and -feasted daintily, and met my eye now and again with as pretty and as -blushing a look as if I had chosen her among a thousand. The gipsies -played their maddening music—the music of my dream—and the cries -in the courtyard rose now and then to a very clamour of enthusiasm. -Schultz, with a truly German sentimentality, had presented his new -mistress with a large bouquet of white flowers. The smell of them -turned me faint. I knew that in the great room beyond, all illuminated -by a hundred wax candles, was the portrait of my uncle, stern and -solitary. I would not have dared to go into that room that night to -have met the look of his single watchful eye. - -And yet, O God! how are we made and of what strange clay! What would -I not give now to be back at that hour! What would I not give to see -her there at the head of my board once more! What is all the world to -me—what all the traditions of my family—what even the knowledge of -her deceit and my humiliation, compared with the waste and desolation -of my life without her! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -AND now what I must set down of myself is so passing strange that -had I not, I myself, lived through it, were I not now in an earthly -hell for the mere want of her, I could not have believed that human -nature—above all the superior quality of human nature appertaining to -Basil Jennico—could be so weak a thing. - -I had meant to be master: I found myself a slave! And slave of what? -A dimple, a pair of yellow eyes, veiled by long black lashes—a saucy -child! - -I had meant to have held her merely as my toy, at the whim of my will -and pleasure: and behold! the very sound of her voice, the fall of her -light foot, would set my blood leaping; under the glance of her wilful -eye my whole being would become as wax to the flame. - -In olden days people would have said I was bewitched. - -I think, looking back on it all now, that it was perhaps her singular -dissimilarity from any other woman I had ever met that began the spell. -Had she opposed to my anger, on that memorable night of our marriage, -the ordinary arms of a woman discovered; had she wept, implored, -bewailed her fate, who shall say that, even at the cost of my vanity, -I might not have driven her straight back to her Princess? Who shall -say that I should have wished to keep her, even to save myself from -ridicule? It is impossible for me now to unravel the tangled threads -of that woof that has proved the winding-sheet of my young happiness; -but this I know—this of my baseness and my better nature—that once I -had kissed her I was no longer a free man. And every day that passed, -every hour I spent beside her, welded closer and firmer the chains of -my servitude. - -She was an enigma which I ever failed to solve. That alone was -alluring. Judged by her actions, most barefaced little schemer, -most arrant adventuress plotting for a wealthy match, there was -yet something about her which absolutely forbade me to harbour in -her presence an unworthy thought of her. Guilty of deceit such as -hers had been towards me, she ought to have displayed either a -conscience-stricken or a brazen soul: I found her emanate an atmosphere -not only of childlike innocence but of lofty purity that often made me -blush for my grosser imaginings. - -She ought, by rights, to have feared me—to have been humble at least: -she was as proud as Lucifer before the fall and as fearless as he when -he dared defy his Creator. She ought to have mistrusted me, shown doubt -of how I would treat her: and alas! in what words could I describe the -confidence she gave me? so generous, so sublime, so guileless. It would -have forced one less enamoured than myself into endeavouring to deserve -it for very shame! - -A creature of infinite variety of moods, with never a sour one among -them; the serenest temper and the merriest heart I have ever known; a -laugh to make an old man young, and a smile to make a young man mad; as -fresh as spring; as young and as fanciful! I never knew in what word -she would answer me, what thing she would do, in what humour I should -find her. Yet her tact was exquisite. She dared all and never bruised -a fibre (till that last terrible day, my poor lost love!). And besides -and beyond this, there was yet another thing about her which drew me on -till I was all lost in love. She was elusive. I never felt sure of her, -never felt that she was wholly mine. Her tenderness—oh, my God, her -tenderness!—was divine, and yet I felt I had not all she had to give. -There was still a secret hanging upon that exquisite lip, a mystery -that I had yet to solve, a land that lay unexplored before me. And it -comes upon me like madness, now that she is gone from me, perhaps for -ever, that I may never know the word of the riddle. - -I have said that the past is like a dream to look back upon; no part of -it is more dreamlike than the days which followed my strange wedding. -They seemed to melt into each other, and yet it is the memory of them -which is at once my joy and my torture now. - -At first she did not touch, nor did I, upon the question which lay -like a covered fire always smouldering between us; and in a while it -came about with me that I lived as a gambler upon the pleasure of -the moment. And though in my heart I had not told myself yet that I -would give up my revenge,—though it was hidden there, a sleeping -viper, cruel and implacable,—I strove to forget it, strove to think -neither of the future nor of the past. I hung a curtain over my uncle’s -picture, at which old János nearly broke his heart. I rolled up the -pedigree very tight and rammed it into a drawer ... and the autumn days -seemed all too short for the golden hours they gave me. - -No one came to disturb us in our solitude, no hint from the outer -world. We two were as apart in our honeymoon as the most jealous -lovers could wish. I knew not what had become of the Princess. In very -truth I could not bear to think of her; the memory of the absurd part I -had been made to play was so unpalatable, was associated with so much -that was painful and humiliating, and brought with it such a train of -disquieting reflections that I drove it from me systematically. I never -wanted to see the woman again, to hear her voice, or even learn what -had become of her. That I never had one particle of lover’s love for -her was plainer than ever to me now, in the midst of the new feelings -with which my unsought bride inspired me. I knew what love meant at -last, and would at times be filled with an angry contempt for myself, -that she who had proved herself so all unworthy should be the one to -have this power upon me. - -Thus the days went by quite aimlessly. And by-and-by as they went the -thought of what I had planned to do became less and less welcome to -me, not (to my shame be it said) for its wickedness, but because I -could not contemplate life without my present happiness. And after yet -a while the idea (at first rejected as monstrous, impossible, nay, -even as a base breach of faith to my dead uncle) that I might make the -sacrifice of my Jennico pride and actually content myself after all -with this unfit alliance, began to take shape within me. Gradually -this idea grew dearer to me hour by hour, though I still in secret -held to the possibility of my other plan, as a sort of “rod in pickle” -over the head of my perverse companion, and caressed it now and again -in my inmost soul—when she was most provoking—as a method to bring -her to my knees in dire humiliation, but only to have the ultimate -sweetness of nobly forgiving her. For Ottilie was far from showing a -proper spirit of contrition or a fitting sense of what she owed me; and -this galled me at times to the quick. I had never ceased to entertain -the resolve of taming the wild little lady, although I found it -increasingly difficult to begin the process. - -Alone we were by no means lonely, even though the days fell away into -a month’s length. We rode together, we drove, we walked; she chattered -like a magpie, and I never knew a second’s dulness. She whipped my -blood for me like a frosty wind, and, or so it seemed to me, took a -new bloom, a new beauty in her happiness. For she was happy. The only -sour visage in Tollendhal at the time was, I think, that of the strange -nurse. I had found her waiting in my wife’s bedroom the night of our -homecoming. She never spoke to me during the whole time of her stay, -nor to Schultz, although he was her countryman. With the others, of -course (saving János) she could not have exchanged a word, and but -that she spoke with her mistress sometimes, I should have thought her -dumb. That woman hated me. I have seen her eyes follow me about as if -she would willingly murder me; but her nursling she loved in quite as -vehement a fashion, and therefore I bore with her. - -We had been married a week when Ottilie first made allusion to the -Princess. We were to ride out on that day, and she came down to -breakfast all equipped but for one boot. - -I have never seen so daintily untidy a person as she was in all my -life. Her hair smelt of fresh violets, but there was always a twist -out of place, or a little curl that had broken loose. Her clothes were -of singular fineness and richness, but she would tear them and tatter -them like a very schoolgirl romp. And so that morning she tripped in -with one pink satin bedroom slipper and one yellow leather riding boot. -I would not let her send for her dark-visaged attendant to repair the -neglect, but fetched the boot myself and knelt to put it on. As I took -off the slipper I paused for a moment weighing it in my hand. It was -so little a thing, so slender, so pretty! She looked down at me with a -smile, and said composedly: - -“Do you think, sir, that the other Ottilie could have put on that shoe?” - -It was, as I said, the first time that the subject had been mentioned -between us since the night of our marriage. I felt as if a cloud came -over me, and looked up darkly at her. It was not wise, surely, I -thought in my heart, to touch upon what I was willing to forget. But -she had no misgiving. She slipped out from under her long riding skirt -the small unbooted foot in its shining pink silk stocking, and said: - -“You would _not_ have liked, Monsieur de Jennico, to have acted -lady’s-maid to her, for you are very fastidious, as it did not take me -long to find out. Oh,” she went on, “if you knew how grateful you ought -to be to me for preventing you from marrying her! You would have been -so unhappy, and you deserved a better fate.” - -“But I thought,” said I—and such was my weakness that the sight of her -pretty foot took away my anger, and I was all lost in the discovery of -how everything about her seemed to curve: her hair in its ripples, her -lip in its arch, her nostrils, her little chin, her lithe young waist, -and now, her foot—“I thought,” and as I spoke I took it into my hand, -“it was the Princess’s plan.” - -“Did I say so?” she said lightly. “That woman was never capable of -a plan in her life! No, sir, I always made her do what I liked. Her -intelligence was just brilliant enough to allow her to realise that she -had better follow my advice. Will you put on my boot, sir? Ah! what -treachery.” I held her tightly by the heel and looked up well pleased -at her laughing face—I loved to watch her laugh—and then I kissed -her silk stocking and put the boot on. To such depths had I come in my -unreasoning infatuation. I felt no anger with her for the revelation -which, indeed, as I think I have previously set down, was from the -beginning scarcely news to me. I had yet to learn how completely -innocent of all complicity in the deception played upon me was her -poor Serenity, how innocent even of the pride and contempt I still -attributed to her! - -The season for the chase had opened; once or twice I had already been -out with the keepers after stags, or wild boars, and my wife, a pretty -figure in her three-cornered hat and fine green riding suit, had ridden -courageously at my side. At the beginning of the third week we made a -journey higher into the mountains and stayed a few days at a certain -hunting-box, the absolute isolation of which seemed by contrast to -make Tollendhal a very vortex. The wild place pleased her fancy. We -had some splendid boar-hunting in the almost inaccessible passes of -the mountains, and Ottilie showed herself as keen at the chase as I, -although, woman-like, she shrank from the finish. She vowed she loved -the loneliness, the simplicity, of the rough wood-built lodge, the -savageness of the scenery. She loved too the novel excitement of the -life, the long day’s riding, the sleepy supper by the roaring wood -fire, with the howl of the dogs outside, and the cry of the autumn wind -about the heights. She begged me with pretty insistence that we should -come back and spend the best part of the coming month in this airy nest. - -“We are more alone,” she said coaxingly, with one of her rare fits of -tenderness. “You are more mine, Basil.” And I promised her that we -should only return to Tollendhal to settle matters with the steward and -provide ourselves with what we wanted, and then that we should have -a new honeymoon. I would have promised anything at such a moment. It -is the truth that in those days, somehow, we had, as she said, grown -closer to each other. - -On the last night, wearied out by the long hours on horseback, she had -fallen asleep as she sat in a great carved wooden chair by the flaming -hearth, while I sat upon the other side, wakeful, watching her, full of -thought. She looked all a child as she slept, her face small and pale -and tired, the shadow of the long lashes very black upon her cheeks. -And then came upon me like a sort of nightmare the memory of what I had -meant to make of this young creature who had trusted herself to me. For -the first time I faced my future boldly, and took a great resolve in -the silence, listening to the fall of her light breath, and the sullen -roar of the wind in the pine forest without. - -I resolved to sacrifice my pride and keep my low-born wife. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -IT WAS full of this resolve, with an uplifted consciousness of my -own virtue, that I started next morning beside her upon our homeward -way. The day was very bright; and the bare trees, with here and there -a yellow or red leaf, showed against a sky of palest blue. There -was a frost about us, and our horses were fresh and full of pranks, -as we wound down the rocky paths. My wife, too, was in a skittish -humour, which irritated me a little as being ill-assorted to my own -high-strung feelings and my secret sense of magnanimity. She mocked at -my solemn face, she sang ends of silly songs to herself. I would have -spoken to her of what was on my heart; I would have had her grateful -to me, conscious of her own sin and my generosity. But I could get -her to hearken to no serious speech. She called me “Monsieur de la -Faridondaine,” and plucked a bunch of ash berries as we rode, and -stuck them over one ear, and asked me, her face dimpling, if it was -not becoming to her. And then, when I still urged that I would talk of -grave matters, she pulled a grimace, and fell to mimicking Schultz -with “Jawohl, Gnädigster Herr,” till I was fain to laugh with her and -put off my sermon till the audience was better disposed. - -But my heart was something sore against her. And when we reached home, -I found _that_ awaiting me which awoke a flame of the fierce resentment -of the first hour of discovery. It was a letter from my mother in -answer to the wild, inflated, triumphant lucubration I had sent her on -the eve of my wedding-day. I had, of course, not attempted to undeceive -her—in fact, as I have already set down, it was only within the last -twenty-four hours that I had settled upon a definite plan of action. -My dear mother, who dearly loved, as she herself admitted, the princes -of this earth, was in a tremendous flutter at my exalted alliance. I -read her words, her proud congratulations, with a feeling of absolute -nausea. My brother, she wrote, was torn betwixt a sense of the -increased family importance and the greenest envy, that I, who had paid -no price of honour for the gaining of them, should have risen to such -heights of grandeur and wealth. Not hearing from me since the great -announcement, she had ventured (so she confessed) to confide my secret -to a few dear friends, and “it had got about strangely,” she added -naïvely. The whole Catholic world, the whole English world of fashion, -was ringing with the news of the great Jennico match. In fact, the -poor lady was as nearly beside herself with pride and glory when she -wrote to me, as I had been when I gave her the news. I did not—I am -glad to say this—I did not for a second waver in my resolution of -fidelity to my wife, but I told myself, with an intolerable sense of -injury, that I could never face the shame of returning to England -again; that the full sacrifice entailed upon me was not only the -degradation of an unsuitable alliance, but that hardest of trials to -the true-blooded Englishman, perpetual expatriation! - -In this grim and bitter temper I marched into the room where I now sit, -and drew back the curtain from my uncle’s picture and took forth the -pedigree from its hidden recess. The old man wore, as I knew he would, -a most severe countenance. - -But I turned my back upon him in a disrespectful fashion I had never -dared display during his life, and spread out again that fateful -roll of parchment on the table before me, while with penknife and -pumicestone I sought to efface all traces of that vainglorious entry -that mocked me in its clear black and white. The blood was surging in -my head and singing in my ears, when I heard a light step, and looking -up saw Ottilie. She could not have come at a worse moment. She held -letters in her hand, which upon seeing me she thrust into her pocket -with a sly look and something of a blush. She too, it seemed, had -found a courier awaiting her; the secretness of the action stirred the -heat of my feelings against her yet more. But I strove to be calm and -judicial. - -“Ottilie,” I said, “come here. I have to converse with you on matters -of importance.” - -She drew near me; pouting and with a lagging step, like a naughty child. - -“That sacred pedigree,” she said, and thrust out her under-lip. She -spoke in French, which gave the words altogether a different meaning, -and in my then humour I was hugely shocked to hear such an expression -from her lips. - -“You behave strangely,” I said, with coldness, not to be mollified by -the half-pleading, half-mischievous glance she cast upon me, “and you -speak like a child. There has been enough of childishness, enough of -folly, in this business. It is time to be serious,” I said, and struck -the table with my flat palm as I spoke. - -“Well, let us be serious,” she retorted, slapping the table too, and -then sat down beside me, propping her chin upon her hands in her -favourite attitude. “Am I not serious?” she proceeded, looking at me -with a face of mock solemnity. “Well, Mr. my husband, what do you wish -of me?” - -“Have you ever thought, Ottilie,” said I, “of the position you -have placed me in? I have been obliged to-day to come to a grave -resolution—I have had to make up my mind to give up my country and -remain here for the rest of my life. It is in direct defiance to my -uncle’s commands and last wishes, and it is no pleasant thing to an -Englishman to give up his native land.” - -“If so, why do it?” she said coolly. “I am quite willing to go to -England. In fact, I should rather like it.” - -“Because, before heaven, madam,” said I, irritated beyond bounds, “you -have left me no other alternative. Do you think I am going home to be a -laughing-stock among my people?” - -“Then,” she said with lightning quickness, “you broke your promise of -secrecy. It is your own fault: you should have kept your word.” - -Struck by the irrefutable truth of this remark, although at the same -time my wrath was secretly accumulating against her for this systematic -indifference to her own share in a transaction where she was the chief -person to blame, I kept silence for a moment, drumming with my fingers -on the table. - -“Eh bien!” she said at last, with a note of amusement and tender -indulgence in her voice as a mother might speak to her unreasonable -infant. “This terrible resolution taken, what follows? You have -effaced, I see, your entry in the famous pedigree, and you would now -fill it up with the detail of your real alliance? Is that it?” - -I glanced up at her: her eyes were dancing with an eager light, her lip -trembling as if over some merry word she yet forbore to speak. Her want -of sympathy in sight of my evident distress was hard to bear. - -“Yes,” I answered, “the pedigree must be filled up. I don’t even know -your whole name, nor who your father was, nor yet your mother. I have -your word for it, however,” I said, and the sentence was bitter to me -to speak, “that your family was originally of burgher origin.” - -“Put down,” she answered, “Marie Ottilie Pahlen, daughter of the -deceased Herrn Geheimrath Baron Pahlen, Hof Doctor to his Serene -Highness the Reigning Duke of Lausitz.” - -The pen dropped from my hand. - -“Your father was a doctor?” I asked in an extinguished voice. - -“Ennobled,” she returned promptly, “after successfully piloting his -Serene Highness through a bad attack of jaundice.” - -“And your mother?” I murmured, clinging yet to the hope that on the -mother’s side at least the connection might prove a little more worthy -of the House of Jennico. - -She hesitated and glanced at me. Once more I seemed to see some -inner source of mirth bubble on her lip; or was it only that she was -possessed by the very spirit of mischief? Anyhow, she forced her smile -to gravity again and answered me steadily, while her eyes sought mine -with a curious determined meaning at variance with the mock meekness of -the rest of her countenance. - -“Put down, Monsieur de Jennico,—’and of Sophia Müller, likewise -deceased,’ and add if you like, ’once personal maid to her Serene -Highness the Dowager Duchess, Marie Ottilie of Lausitz.’” - -I sat like a man struck silly, and in the tide of fury that swept -over me my single lucid thought was that if I spoke or moved I should -disgrace myself. And she chose that moment, poor child, to come over to -me and place her arms round my neck, and say caressingly in my ear: - -“Write it, write it, sir, and then tell me that, seeing that I am I, -and that I should not be different from myself were I the daughter of -the Emperor, all this matters little to you since we love each other.” - -I put her from me: my hands were trembling, but I was very gentle. -I brought her round to face me, and she awaited my answer with a -triumphant smile. It was that smile undid me and her. She made too sure -of me—she had conquered me too easily all along. - -“You ask overmuch,” I said when I could command my voice enough to -speak, “you take overmuch for granted. You forget how you have deceived -me; how you have betrayed me. I am willing,” I said, “to believe you -have not been all to blame, that you were encouraged and upheld by -another, but this does not exonerate you from the chief share in a very -questionable transaction.” - -The words fell cuttingly. I saw how the smile faded from her face, saw -how the pretty dimple lingered a second like a pale ghost of itself, -and then was lost in the droop of her lip, which trembled like a -chidden babe’s. And I took a cruel joy to think I had hit her at last. -But in a second or two she spoke with all her old courage. - -“It is well,” she said, “to blame where blame is due. If you wish to -blame any one for our marriage, blame me alone. The other Ottilie -never received your letter; never knew you wanted to marry her; had -nothing to say to what you call my betrayal of you. She would have -prevented this marriage if she could. Nay, I will tell you more: I -believe she might even have married you had I given her the chance. -But I knew you would marry her solely because of her position, of her -title; that you had no love for her beyond your insane love of her -royal blood. I thought you worthy of better things; I thought you could -rise above so pitiable a weakness; I thought you could learn of love -that love alone is worth living for! And if you have not learned, if -indeed, my scholar, you have been taught nothing in love’s school, if -you can lay bare your soul now and tell yourself that you would rather -have had the wife you wanted in your overweening vanity than the wife -I am to you, why then, sir, I have made a grievous mistake, and I am -willing to acknowledge that I have committed an irrevocable wrong both -to you and to myself.” - -Now, as she spoke, I was torn by a strange mixture of feelings, and -my love for her contended with my pride, my wounded vanity, my sense -of injury. I could not in truth answer that I would rather have been -wedded to the Princess, for one thing had these weeks made clear to me -above all things, and that was that married life with her would have -been intolerable. But my anger against the woman I did love in spite -of myself was not lessened by the tone of reproachful superiority she -assumed; and because of the truth of her rebuke it was the harder for -my self-love to bear. Before I could muster words clear enough and -severe enough to answer her with, she proceeded: - -“Come, Basil, come, rise above this failing which is so unworthy -of you. Throw that musty old pedigree away before it eats all the -manliness out of your life. What does it mean but that you can trace -your family up to a greater number of probable rascals, hard and -selfish old men, than another? Be proud of yourself for what you are; -be proud of your forefathers, indeed, if they have done fine deeds of -valour, or virtue; but this cant about birth for birth’s sake, about -the superiority of aristocracy as aristocracy—what does it amount to? -It is to me the most foolish of superstitions. Was that old man,” she -asked, pointing to my uncle, who frowned upon her murderously—“was -that old man a better man than his heiduck János? Was he a braver -soldier? Was he a better servant to _his_ master? Was he more honest -in his dealings? shrewder in his counsel? I tell you I honour János -as much as I would have honoured him. I tell you that if I love you, -I love you for what you are, not because you are descended from some -ignorant savage king, not because you can boast that the blood of the -worst of men and sovereigns, the most profligate, the most treacherous, -the most faithless, Charles Stuart, runs in your veins—I hope, sir, as -little of it as possible.” - -I sprang to my feet. To be thus rated by her who should be kneeling for -forgiveness! It was intolerable. - -“I think,” I thundered, “that, considering your position, a little -humility would be more becoming than this attitude! You should remember -that you are here on tolerance only; that it is to my generosity alone -that you owe the right to call yourself an honest woman.” - -“What do you mean?” said she, as fiercely as I had spoken myself. - -“I mean,” said I—“I mean, madam, that you are what I choose to make -you. That marriage you so skilfully encompassed is, if I choose it, no -marriage.” - -She put her hands to her head like one who has turned suddenly giddy. - -“You married me before God’s altar,” she said in a sort of whisper; -“you married me, and you took me home.” - -I was still too angry to stay my tongue. - -With a bitter laugh, “I married the Princess,” I said, “but I took the -servant home.” - -A burning tide of blood rushed to her brow; I saw it unseeing, as a -man does in passion; but I have lived that scene over and over again, -waking and dreaming, since, and every detail of it is stamped upon my -brain. Next she grew livid white, and spread out her hands, as though a -precipice had suddenly opened before her; and then she cried: - -“And this is your English honour!” and turning on her heel she left me. - -The scorn of her tone cut me like a whip. I swore a mighty oath that -I would never forgive her till she sued for pardon. She must be -taught who was master. In solitude she should reflect, and learn to -rue her sins to me—her audacity—her unwarrantable presumption—her -ingratitude! - -All in my white heat of anger I summoned János and bade him tell his -mistress’s nurse that I had gone into the mountains for a week. And -then I ordered a fresh horse, and followed only by the old man, dashed -off like one possessed into the rocky wastes. - -Alone in the solitary hut, by that hearth where but the night previous -my heart had overflowed with such tenderness for her, I sat and -nursed my grievances and brooded upon my wrongs till they grew to -overpowering size and multiplied a thousandfold; and curious it is that -what I thought of most was the bitter unfairness to me, the monstrous -injustice of her contempt, at the very moment when I had meant to -sacrifice my life and prospects to her. I told myself she did not love -me, had never loved me, and worked myself to a pitch of frenzy over -that thought. The memory of her announcement on this afternoon, the -full knowledge of her deceit, the confession of her worse than burgher -origin, weighed not now one feather-weight in my resentment. That I had -cast from me as the least of my troubles; so can a man change and so -can love swallow up all other passions! No doubt, I told myself, she -was mocking me now in her own mind; no doubt she reckoned that her poor -infatuated fool would come creeping back with all promptitude and beg -for her smile. She should learn at last that she had married a man; not -till I saw her down at my very feet would I take her back to my breast. - -All next day I hunted in a bitter wind and in a bitter temper. There -were clouds arising, my huntsmen told me, that looked very like snow -clouds, and I must beware being snowed up upon the height. I was in -the humour to welcome hardship and even danger, and so the whole day -we rode after an old rogue boar and came back in darkness, at no -small risk, empty handed, and the roughness of my temper by no means -improved. Next day the weather still held up, and again I hunted. -My men must have wondered what had come over their erstwhile genial -master. Even my uncle could not have shown them a harder rule or ridden -them with less consideration through the hardest of ways in the teeth -of the most fiendish of winds. - -That night, again, I sat and brooded by the leaping flame of the pine -logs, but it was in a different mood. All my surly determination, my -righteous indignation, had melted from me, leaving me as weak as water. -Of a sudden in the closest heat of the chase there had come to me an -awful vision of what I had done; a terrible swift realisation of the -insult I had flung at the face of the woman who was indeed the wife of -my heart and love. Oh, God, what had I done? I had sought to humble -her—I had but debased myself! Through the whole day her words, “Is -this your English honour?” had rung a dismal rhythm in my ear to the -beat of my horse’s hoofs on the hard ground, to the call of the horn -amid the winding rocks. The vision of her faded smile, of her dimple -paled to a pitiable ghost, of her babyish drooping lip, and then of her -white face struck with such scorn, haunted me to madness. I sickened -from my food as I sat to my supper, and put down my cup untasted. And -now as the wind whistled and the foreboded storm was gathering upon us, -the longing to see her, to be with her, to kneel at her feet—yes, _I_ -would now be the one to kneel—came upon me with such violence that I -could not withstand it. - -I ordered my horses. I would listen to no remonstrance, no warning. -I must return to Tollendhal, I said, were all the powers of darkness -leagued against me. And return I did. It was a piece of foolhardiness -in which I ran, unheeding, the risk of my life; but the Providence that -protects madmen protected me that night, and Janos and I arrived in -safety through a gale of wind and a fall of snow that might indeed have -proved our death. All covered with rime I ran into the house and up to -the door of her room. It was past midnight, and there I paused for a -moment fearing to disturb her. - -Two or three of the women came pattering down the passage to me and -with expressive gestures addressed me volubly; one of the girls was -weeping. I could not understand a word they said, but with a new -terror I burst open the door of the bedroom. In this appalling dread I -realised for the first time how I loved my wife! - -The room was all empty and all dark; I called for lights. There was no -trace of her presence; her bed had not been slept in. Like a maniac -I tore about the house, seeking her, shrieking her name, demanding -explanations from those to whom my speech meant nothing. I recked -little of my dignity, little of the impression I must create upon -my household! And at last János, his wrinkled face withered up and -contorted with the trouble he dared not speak, gave me the tidings that -the gracious lady had gone. She and her nurse had set forth on foot and -left no message with any one. - -What need is there for me to write down what I endured that black -night? When I look back upon it it is as one may look back upon some -terrible nightmare, some hideous memory of delirium. She had left me, -and left me thus, without a word, and with but one sign. The cursed -pedigree was still spread upon the table where we had quarrelled. I -found upon it her wedding ring. A great cross had been drawn over the -half-written entry of our marriage. That was all, but it was surely -enough. The jewels I had given her were carefully packed in their cases -and laid upon a table in her room. Her own things had been gathered -together the day of her departure, which was the day I left her, and -they had been fetched the next morning by some strange servant in an -unknown travelling coach. More than this I have not been able to glean, -for the storm has rendered the ways impassable; but it is rumoured that -the Countess de Schreckendorf is dead, and that the Princess also has -left the country. - -I have no more to say. It is only two nights ago since I came home to -such misery, and how I have passed the hours, what needs it to set -forth? At times I tell myself that it is better so, that she is false -and base, and that I were the poorest of wretches to forgive her. But -at times again I see the whole naked truth before me, and I know that -she was to me what no woman can be again. And my uncle looks down at me -as I write, with a sour frowning face, and seems—strange it is, yet -true—to revile me now with bitter scorn, not for having kept her, the -roturière, but for having driven her from my castle! - -“Thou hadst her; thou couldst not hold her,” he seems to snarl. - -Old man, old man, it is your teaching that has undone me; do you -reproach me now that it has wrought my ruin? - - * * * * * - -Basil Jennico flung his pen from him; the logs in the hearth had burnt -themselves to white ash; his candles were guttering in their sockets, -and behind the close-drawn curtains the faint dawn was spreading over a -world of snow. The wind still howled, the storm was still unabated. - -“Another day,” groaned he, “another hateful day!” He flung his arms -before him and his head down upon them. So sleep came upon him; and -so old János, creeping in a little later, red-eyed from his watchful -night, found him. The sleeper woke as the man, with hands rough and -gnarled, yet tender as a woman’s, strove to lift him to an easier -attitude; woke and looked at him with a fixed semi-conscious stare. - -“Ottilie!” he cried wildly, and suddenly brought back to grey reality -stopped and clasped his head. There was in the old servant’s hard and -all but immutable face so wistful a yearning of kindred sorrow that, -suddenly catching sight of it in the midst of his despair, the young -man broke down and fell forward like a child upon that faithful breast. - -“Courage, honoured master,” said János, “we will find her again.” - - - - -PART II - - - - -CHAPTER I - - MEMOIR OF CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO (A PORTION, WRITTEN EARLY IN THE YEAR - 1772, IN HIS ROOMS AT GRIFFIN’S, CURZON STREET) - - -HOME in England once again, if home it can be called, this set of hired -chambers, so dreary within, with outside the lowering fog and the -unfamiliar sounds that were once so familiar. It is all strange, after -eight years’ exile; and the grime, the noise, the narrow limits, the -bustle of this great city, weary me after the noble silence, the wide -life, at Tollendhal. - -It was with no lightening of my thoughts that I saw the white cliffs of -old England break the sullen grey of the horizon, with no patriotic joy -that I set foot on my native soil again, but rather with a heavy, heavy -heart. What can this land be to me now but a land of exile? All that -makes home to a man I have left behind me. - -I hardly know why I have resumed the thread of this miserable story. -God knows that I have no good thing to narrate, and that this -setting forth, this storing, as it were, of my bitter harvest of -disappointments, can bring no solace with it. And yet man must hope as -long as life lasts; and the hope keeps springing up again, in defiance -of all reason, that, somehow, some day, we shall meet again. Therefore -I write, in order that, should such a day come, she may read for -herself and learn how the thought of her filled each moment of my life -since our parting; that she may read how I have sought her, how I have -mourned for her; that she may know that my love has never failed her. - -This it is that heartens me to my task. Moreover, all else is so -savourless that I know not how otherwise to fill the time. I have been -here five weeks; there are many houses where I am welcome, many friends -who would gladly lend me their company, many places where young men can -find distraction of divers kinds and degrees; but I have not succeeded -in bringing myself to take up the new life with any zest: I had rather -dwell upon the past in spite of all its bitterness, than face the -desolation of the present. - -It was on the third day of the great storm that the pen fell from my -hand at Tollendhal, and for four and twenty hours more that self-same -storm raged in violence. One word of my old servant’s had brought me -on a sudden to a definite purpose. I was full of eager hope of tracing -her, of finding her, once it were possible to start upon the quest. For -the gale which kept me prisoner must have retarded her likewise; and -even with two days’ start, I told myself, she could not have gone far -upon her road. - -But I reckoned without the difficulties which the first great snowfall -of the year, before the hard frost comes to make it passable for -sledging, was creating for us in these heights where the drifts fill to -such depth. Day and night my fellows worked to cut a way for me down to -the imperial road; and I worked with them, watched, encouraged them, -and all, it seemed, to so little purpose that I thought I should have -gone mad outright. The cruel heavens now smiled, now frowned, upon our -work, so that, between frost and thaw and thaw and frost, the task was -doubled, and my prison bars seemed to grow stronger instead of less. - -In this way it came to pass that it was full ten days from the time -that she had left Tollendhal that I was at length able to start forth -in pursuit. - -My first stage was of course to the castle of the old Countess -Schreckendorf, where I found the place well-nigh deserted, its mistress -having been, even as I had been informed, a fortnight dead and buried. -But there was a servant in charge of the empty, desolate house, and -from her I gleaned tidings both precise and sufficient. - -The Princess had remained quietly at Schreckendorf during the weeks -which had followed upon my marriage, but on the day previous to our -return to Tollendhal from the shooting-lodge, a couple of couriers had -arrived at the Countess’s gates close one upon the other, bringing, it -would seem, important letters for the Princess, who had been greatly -agitated upon receipt of them. She had hastily despatched a mounted -messenger to my wife, whether with a private communication from herself -or merely to forward missives addressed to her from her own home I know -not; but at any rate the papers which Ottilie had hidden from me that -fatal day were brought her by this man. After she left Tollendhal a few -hours later, my wife had arrived at Schreckendorf in a peasant’s cart. -That same evening two travelling coaches, bringing ladies, officers, -and servants, had made their appearance at the castle; it was one of -these coaches which went to the stronghouse next morning and bore away -Ottilie’s belongings. In the afternoon the whole party, including my -wife, had set forth in great haste for the north, despite universal -warning of the gathering storm. There could be no doubt but that their -destination was Lausitz, most probably the Residence itself, Budissin. - -When I had ascertained all this I promptly decided upon my course. -Taking with me János only, I instantly started for the next post-town, -where we were able to secure fresh horses, and whence we pushed on the -same night some twenty miles farther. - -Not until the sixth evening, however, despite our extraordinarily hard -travelling, did we, mounted upon a pair of sorry and worn-out nags, -find ourselves crossing the bridge under the towered gates of Budissin. -That was then the sixteenth day from the date of my wife’s flight. - -It seemed a singularly deserted town as we stumbled over the cobbles of -the streets, with the early dusk of the November day closing in upon -us—so few people passed us as we went, so few windows cast a light -into the gloom, so many houses and shops presented but blank closed -shutter-fronts. János knew his way, having ridden with my uncle in all -this district during the late war. There was a very good inn, he told -me, on the Burg Platz, in the shadow of the palace; and as nothing -could suit my purpose better, to the “Silver Lion of Lusatia” we -therefore turned our horses’ heads. - -It was cheering, after our long wayfaring, and the dismal -nightmare-like impression of our passage through the empty town, to see -the casements of that same “Silver Lion” shine afar off ruddily; and -my heart leaped within me to discern, dimly sketched behind it, the -towering outline of the palace, wherein, no doubt, my lost bird had -found refuge. - -The voice of the red-faced host who, at sound of clattering hoofs -before his door, came bustling to greet us as fast as his goodly bulk -would allow, struck on my ear with cheering omen. - -“God greet ye, my lords!” he cried, as he lent a shoulder for my -descent; “you are welcome this bitter night to fireside and supper. -Enter, my lords; I have good wine, good beds, good supper, for your -lordships, and the best beer that is brewed between Munich and Berlin. -Joseph, thou rag, see to his lordship’s horses; wife, come greet our -worshipful visitors!” - -I write down the jargon much as I heard it, for, as I write, I am back -again at that moment and feel once more the glow of hope which crept -into my heart, even as the genial warmth of the room unbent my frozen -limbs. I had reached my journey’s end, and the old rhyme in the play, -“journeys end in lovers meeting,” rang a merry burden in my thoughts. - -I marvel now that my hopes should have been so forward; that I should -have reckoned so much more upon her woman’s love than upon her woman’s -pride. Indeed, I had not deemed my sin so great but that my penitence -would amply atone. So I was all eagerness to satisfy my hungering heart -by tidings of her, and could hardly sit still to my supper—though -we had ridden hard and I was famished—till I had induced mine host -to sit beside me and crack a bottle of his most recommended Rhenish, -which should unloose a tongue that scarcely needed such inducement. For -her sake, that no scandal might be bruited about her fair name, I had -determined to proceed cautiously. - -“You have a fine town here, friend,” said I, “so far as I can judge -this dark night.” - -“Truly, your lordship may say so,” said he, and smacked his lips that I -might understand how great a relish this fruit of his cellar left on a -man’s palate. - -“But it has a deserted look,” said I idly, just to encourage him in -talk; “so many houses shut up—so few people about.” - -He rolled the wine round his mouth in a reflective manner, then -swallowed it with a gulp, and threw an uneasy look at me. At the same -instant there flashed upon my mind what, strange as it may seem, I -had clean forgotten in the turmoil of my thoughts and the hurry of my -pursuit: the reason for the very state of affairs I was commenting -on—the plague of smallpox, the malady that had driven the Princess to -my land! Ay, in very truth the town had a plague-stricken look, and I -felt myself turn pale to think my wife had come back to this nest of -infection. - -“The sickness,” said I then quickly,—“has it abated here? Nay, I know -all about it, man, and have no fear of it. But how fares it in the town -and in the palace?” - -“Oh, the sickness!” quoth mine host with a great awkward laugh. -“His lordship means these few little cases of smallpox. Na, it had -been nothing, and is all over now; only folk were such cowards and -frightened themselves sick, and families fled because of this same -foolish fear. Now myself, as his lordship sees, myself and my family -and my servants, we have not known a day’s ill-health, because we kept -our hearts up and drank good stuff. ’It is,’ as I said to his Highness -himself, who never left the place, but went out in our midst, the noble -prince, and spat at fear (besides that he had already had it, like -myself),—’it is the wine,’ said I, ’or the beer, if you know where to -get it, that keeps a man sound.’ And his Highness says to me——” - -But here I interrupted the speaker in a voice the trembling of which I -could not control. - -“Is the Duke at the palace now, then, with all his household?” - -“He has been so, my lord,” said the man eagerly, “up to the last week; -so long, indeed, as there was a suspicion of illness among us. But -now he is at the summer castle, Ottilienruhe, near Rothenburg. ’Tis -but three leagues from the town. The Princess, sir, is always fond -of Ottilienruhe, even in this cold weather. And as she has but just -returned from visiting at another Court, his Highness, her father, has -gone to join her thither. Our Princess, sir, is a most beautiful young -lady; nay, if you will allow me, I will show you a portrait of her, -which we have framed in my wife’s room. A beautiful young lady, sir! -There will be rare festivities when she weds her cousin, the Margrave -of Liegnitz-Rothenburg. We have his portrait, too—a very noble -gentleman! I would show you these pictures; I think you would admire -them.” - -But I arrested him with a gesture, as, in the hopes of distracting my -attention from an awkward topic, he was about to roll his bulk in quest -of these treasures. - -I had no wish, indeed, to feast my eyes upon that face, the lineaments -of which, with all their beauty, I could not bear to recall. What was -it to me whom _that_ Ottilie married? If they had had a portrait of my -Ottilie, indeed!... But, sweet soul, she had told me herself of her -obscurity and unimportance. - -“And so,” said I, “they are at the summer palace, your reigning family?” - -And though I had hugged the thought of her dear living presence so -close to me this night, behind yonder palace walls, I nevertheless -rejoiced to learn that she was safer harboured. - -“The Princess has her retinue with her, I suppose?” - -“Oh, ay,” said the innkeeper, rising as he spoke and clacking his -tongue again over the last drop of his wine. “Though our Princess is -so simple a lass, if I may say so without disrespect, and loves not -Court fashions. But she has one favourite companion, and they are as -sisters together, so that when one sees her Highness, one may be sure -the Fräulein is not far distant. Oh, ay, sir, they have returned from -their travels together, though I have heard it rumoured that one or two -of her Highness’s attendants have been left behind, dead or ailing. Na, -it is better to stay at home: strange places are unwholesome!” - -He opened the stove door and shoved in two or three great logs, and I -turned and stretched my limbs to the warmth with lazy content, and, for -the first time for many a long day and night, a restful heart. - -To-morrow I should see her. When I slept that night I dreamed golden -dreams. - - * * * * * - -The next day dawned upon a world all involved in creeping grizzling -mist, that seemed to ooze even into the comfortable rooms of the -“Silver Lion”; that wrapped from my view the lofty towers of the palace -beyond my window, and damped even my buoyant confidence. My good János -had the toothache, and though it was not in him to complain, the -sight of his swollen, suffering face did not further encourage me to -cheer. A little before noon we mounted to ride forth to Ottilienruhe -in the dismal weather. Our garments, despite the heiduck’s endless -brushing, bore many traces of our hard journey. We cut but a poor -figure, I thought, in these stained, rusty clothes; and the young -lord of Tollendhal was ill-mounted upon the wretched jade, which had, -nevertheless, faithfully served him upon his last cruel stage. The -poor nag was yet full weary, and stumbled and drooped her head, while -János’s white-faced bay might have stood for the very image of starving -antiquity. - -I winced as I thought of Ottilie’s mocking glance; but the haste to see -her overcame even my delicate vanity. - -Following my host’s directions, who marvelled greatly at our -eccentricity that we should leave a warm stove door and good cheer from -mere travellers’ curiosity on such a day, we pattered forth through -the town again—through streets yet more ghost-like in their daylight -emptiness than they had seemed yestereven; pattered once more across -the wood of the bridge beneath which the sullen waters ran, without -appearing to run, as grey and leaden as the heavens above. - -And after two hours’ dreary tramp along a poplar-bordered, deserted -road, we saw before us the gilded iron gateway of Ottilienruhe. Beyond -there was a vision of French gardens; of bowling-greens all drenched; -of flat terraces whereon the yews, fantastically cut, stood about like -the pieces of a chessboard. Beyond that again rose the odd Grecian -porticos and colonnades, the Chinese cupolas, appertaining to the -summer pleasaunce of the reigning house. - -It might have looked fair enough under bright skies in summer weather, -with roses on the empty beds and sunshine on the little yellow spires; -but it seemed a most desolate place as it lay beneath my eyes that -noon. I told myself I should find sunshine enough within, yet my heart -lay heavy in my breast. - -A sentry, with his pointed fur cap drawn down over his eyes, with -the collar of his great-coat drawn up above his ears, so that of his -countenance only the end of a red nose was visible to the world, -marched up and down before the gates, and, as we made ready to halt, -challenged us roughly. - -At the sound of his call two more sentries appeared at different -points, and tramped towards us with suspicion in their bearing. - -Evidently the Duke was well guarded. I rode a few steps forward, when, -to my astonishment, it being full peace-time, the fellow brought his -musket to the ready, and again cautioned me to pass on my way. - -“But my way is to the palace,” I bawled to him defiantly, despite -the consciousness that the doubtful impression I must myself create -could not be mitigated by the sight of János behind me. For I am -bound to say that in the plain garb I had insisted on his donning, -now much disordered, as I have said, by our travels, with the natural -grimness of his countenance enhanced by a screw of pain, a more -truculent-looking ruffian it would have been hard to find. - -But so far I did not anticipate any more serious difficulty than what -a few arguments could remove: and I carried a heavy purse. So I added -boldly: - -“I have business at the palace.” - -The man lowered his weapon and came a step nearer. - -“Whence come you?” he asked more civilly. - -“From Budissin,” said I. - -The musket instantly went up again, and its bearer retreated hastily a -couple of paces. - -“‘Tis against orders,” he said, “because of the sickness; no one from -Budissin may pass the gates.” - -The sickness again! I had, then, by my impetuosity, my haste to follow -in her traces, but raised a new barrier between us. - -I dismounted, threw my reins to János, and advanced upon the soldier. - -“But, friend,” said I—— - -The fellow covered me with his weapon. - -“Stand!” he cried roughly; “stand, or I fire!” - -I stood back stock-still. Here was a quandary indeed! - -“But, my God!” I cried to him, “I am a traveller. I have but passed -through the town. I have come these eighty leagues upon urgent -business, and I must see some one who I am told is in the palace.” - -So saying I drew forth a louis d’or, a stock of which I kept loose for -such emergencies in my side pocket, and tossed it to the rascal. - -“Now get me speech with a person in authority,” said I. - -With one hand, and without lowering his fire-lock, he nimbly caught the -coin on the fling and placed it in his mouth, after which he shook his -head and remarked indistinctly: - -“‘Tis no use.” - -And then at last my sorely-tried patience broke down, impotent -otherwise in front of his menacing barrel. I cursed him long and -loud with that choiceness and variety of epithet of which my own -squadron-life experience as well as my apprenticeship to my great-uncle -had given me a command. - -The clamour we made first drew the other soldiers, and next a little -dapper officer from the guard-room behind the inner gate, who ran out -towards us, and at the utmost pitch of his naturally piping voice -demanded in the name of all gods, thunders, and lightning-blasts what -the matter was. - -My particular sentinel’s utterance was something impeded by the louis -d’or in his cheek, and I was consequently able to offer an explanation -before him. Uncovering my head and bowing, I introduced myself in -elegant phraseology, though of necessity, for the distance between us, -in tones more suited to the parade ground than to a polite ceremony, -and laid bare my unfortunate position. I bewailed that through my brief -halt in Budissin, ignorant of the infection, I had evidently made -myself amenable to quarantine, and requested his courteous assistance -in the matter. - -My name was evidently quite unfamiliar to his ears, but, perceiving -that he had to deal with an equal, the little officer at once returned -my salute with an extra flourish, and my civility by ordering the -sentry to stand aside. Then, advancing gingerly in the mud to a more -reasonable interval for conversation, he informed me, with another -sweeping bow, that he was Captain Freiherr von Krappitz, and that, -while it would be his pleasure to serve me in every possible manner, he -regretted deeply that his orders were such that he could only ratify -the sentry’s conduct. - -“And are there no means, then,” cried I “by which I can communicate in -person with any resident of the palace?” - -“In person,” said the officer “I regret, none. His Serene Highness’s -orders are stringent, and when I tell you that our Princess is actually -behind these walls, you will understand the necessity. The sickness has -been appalling,” he added. - -He must have seen the blank dismay upon my countenance, for his own -sharp visage expressed a comical mixture of sympathy and curiosity, and -again approaching two steps he proceeded: - -“I could perhaps convey some message. I shall soon be relieved from -duty here. The person you wish to see is——?” - -“It is a lady,” said I, flushing. - -This was what the little gentleman had evidently expected. Suppressing -a grin of satisfaction, he gave another salute and placed himself -quite at my disposal. But I had an unsurmountable objection to announce -my real relationship to the woman who had fled from my protection. -Courteous as my interlocutor was, and honourable and kind as he seemed -to be, I could send no message to my wife through him. - -“If you will see to the safe delivery of a letter,” said I, “I should -be grateful indeed.” - -His face fell. - -“It is possible, perhaps,” he said dubiously, “but less easy of -accomplishment. There will be the necessity of disinfection. If you -think your billet-doux—forgive me for supposing you to be a sufferer -from the tender passion, and believe me I speak with sympathy” (here he -thumped his little chest and heaved from its restricted depths a noisy -sigh)—“if you think your billet-doux will not lose of its sweetness by -a prolonged immersion in vinegar, I will do what I can. Nay, I think I -can promise you that your letter will be delivered, if you will kindly -inform me who the fair recipient is to be.” - -Again I hesitated. I would not call her by her maiden name; to speak -of her as my wife, to bawl my strange story on the high road, was not -only intolerable to my pride, but seemed inadvisable and certainly -imprudent in my ignorance of her attitude at the Court. - -“It is,” said I, “one of your Princess’s Court ladies.” And here his -volubility spared me further circumlocution. - -“It can certainly not be,” he cried, “that you have formed an unhappy -attachment for the Frau Gräfin von Kornstein? There remains then only -the young Comtesse d’Assier, Fräulein von Auerbach and her sister, and -Fräulein Ottilie Pahlen—these are all of our fair circle that are now -in attendance at the palace.” - -“It is the last lady,” I said, and was at once glad of my own -circumspection and troubled in my mind that she should be keeping her -secret so well. - -“Mes compliments,” said he with a smirk, but I thought also with a -shade of patronage, as if by mentioning her last he had also shown her -to be the last in his worldly esteem. Once, doubtless, this would have -galled me. - -“Then if I write now,” I cried, “and you, according to your kind offer, -take charge of my letter, how soon can it be in her hands?” - -“But as soon as the guard has relieved me, good sir, am I free to act -the gallant Mercury—pity it is that these sordid details of sickness -and quarantine should come to spoil so pretty an errand. This was a -fair Court for Cupid before the ugly plague came on us. Yes,” he added, -“I have seen days!” - -I had already drawn out my tablets, and, thanking him hurriedly -(without, I fear, evincing much interest in his sentimental -reflections), turned and, making a standing desk of my horse, with the -sheet spread upon the saddle, began, all in the dreary drizzle, to -trace with fingers stiffened from the cold the few lines which were to -bring my wife back to me. - -I had little time for composition, and so wrote the words as they -welled up from my heart. - -“Dear love,” said I, in the French which had been the language of our -happiest moments, “your poor scholar has learnt his lesson so well -that he cannot live without his teacher. Forget what has come between -us. Remember only all that unites us, and forgive. I have, it seems, -involved myself in difficulty by passing through Budissin, and so will, -I fear, have to endure delay before being permitted sight of your -sweet face again. But let me have a word which may help me to bear the -separation, let me know that I may carry home my wife.” I signed it, -“Your poor scholar and loving husband.” Then I folded it, fastened it -with a wafer, and after a minute’s pause decided to burn my ships and -address it by the right name of her to whom I destined it—“Madame -Ottilie de Jennico, Dame d’honneur de S. A. S. la Princesse Marie -Ottilie de Lusace.” - -Bending over the living desk,—the poor patient brute never budged but -for his heaving flanks,—I laid for a second, unperceived I thought, my -lips upon that name which haunted me, sleeping and waking, and turning, -with the letter in my hand, found the Freiherr watching me, with his -head upon one side and so comic an air of sympathy that, at another -moment, I should have burst out laughing. - -“It is mille dommages,” quoth he as, bending his supple spine again, -he drew his sword with a charming gesture of courtesy, “that this -chaste salute should have to pass through the bitter waves of the Court -doctor’s vinegar basin before reaching the virginal lips for which it -is intended.” - -“Then I may rely upon your countenance?” said I, unmindful of his mock -Versailles floweriness as I fixed my missive to the point of the sword -extended towards me for that purpose by the longest arm the little -fellow could make. I knew he would not read the tell-tale inscription -until the unpoetic process he had so feelingly lamented should have -been gone through, and I wondered something anxiously whether it would -not prove another complication, my wife in her wounded pride having -thus chosen to conceal our marriage—in truth, I might have known it: -had she not shaken off my ring? Seeing upon what grounds we had parted, -however, I dared not have addressed her otherwise, and so could see no -way but to run some risk. - -“When may I hope to receive an answer?—you will forgive my -impatience,” said I, with a somewhat rueful smile, “for you have some -knowledge of the human heart, I see, and so I venture further to -trespass on your great courtesy. I will meet here any messenger you may -depute at any hour you name this afternoon.” - -“Myself, sir, myself,” said the good-natured gentleman, “and in as -short a space as possible. Shall we say three o’clock?” - -There were then a few minutes wanting to noon by my uncle’s famous -chronometer. Three hours seemed long, but, as we must ever learn to do -in life, I had to be content with a slice where I wanted the loaf. (Now -I have not even a crumb for my starving heart, and yet I live.) - -As I had surmised, my messenger continued to hold the missive at the -extreme length of his weapon and arm, while we made our divers congees -and compliments. Thus we parted, he to withdraw to his guard-house, and -I, with my attendant, to ride back to the nearest village, with what -appetite we might for our noonday meal. - -I rode alone again to the rendezvous, full early, poor fool! János -I had sent on to find lodgings for me in the neighbourhood, out of -range of infection, so that my time of purgatory need not be an hour -prolonged. - -The sky had cleared somewhat and it rained no more, but there was now -a penetrating and moisture-charged wind. A little after the stroke of -three my friend of the morning came forth, waved aside the sentry as -before, and halted within the former distance, while I dismounted. His -countenance was far from bearing the beaming cordiality with which -he had last surveyed me, nor had his bow anything like its previous -depth and roundness. He drew a folded paper from his pocket, attached -it to the point of his sword, according to the process I had already -witnessed, and presented it to me, observing drily: - -“I regret, sir, that there seems to be some mistake about this matter. -The Court doctor, who duly delivered the letter at the palace, informs -me that none of her Highness’s ladies-in-waiting will consent to -receive it, it being indeed addressed to some person unknown among -them. There is no lady of the name of Jennico among her Highness’s -attendants.” - -I felt myself blanching. - -“Am I to understand,” said I, “that Fräulein Ottilie Pahlen has -repudiated this letter?” - -“My good sir,” said he, looking at me, I thought, with a sort of -compassion, as if he feared I was weak in my head, “I understand from -the Court doctor that Mademoiselle Pahlen was the lady to whom the -letter was at once offered, according to my request and yours. There is -perhaps some mystery?”—here his interest seemed to flicker up again, -and he smiled as who would say, “_confide in me_”; but I could not -bring my tongue to this humiliation, less than ever then. - -I flicked the poor, vinegar-sodden, despised epistle from the point of -his sword, and, spreading it out once again, added to it in a sort of -frenzy this appeal: - -“For God’s sake forgive me! You cannot mean to send me away like this. -Ottilie, write me one line, for from my soul I love you.” - -Then I pasted the sheet again, and, drawing a line through the title, -wrote above it in great letters: - -“Fräulein Ottilie Pahlen,” and then I said to the officer: - -“You will be doing a deed of truer kindness than you can imagine, -Captain von Krappitz, if you will have this letter placed again in the -hands of Fräulein Pahlen. More I cannot say now, but some day, if my -fortune is not more evil than I dare reflect upon, I will explain.” - -“Wait here half an hour,” he responded with a return of his good -nature; “I am off duty and free for the rest of the day. If I can -induce the Court doctor to attend to me—in truth, he is of a very -surly mood this afternoon—I trust you may see me return a messenger of -better tidings.” - -Besides a very bubbling heat of curiosity there was real amiability in -this readiness to help me. - -The half hour sped and half an hour beyond it—why do I linger upon -such details? From sheer cowardly reluctance, I believe, to describe -those moments of my great despair. - -And then a cockscomb of a servant fellow, in gorgeous livery and -ribboned cue, stepped forth from the gates, sniffing a bunch of -stinking herbs, and stood and surveyed me for a second from head to -foot, grinning all over his insolent visage, till I wonder how I kept -my riding-whip from searing it across. - -“Well, sir?” said I sternly. - -He felt, maybe, the note of master in my voice, for he cringed a -little, and, more civilly than his countenance suggested, requested to -know if I was the gentleman with whom Captain the Freiherr von Krappitz -had recently been conversing. Upon my reply he gingerly held up a -filthy rag of paper, in which I recognised, with a failing of the heart -such as I cannot set forth in words, my own letter once more. And in -sight of my discomfiture, resuming his native impudence, he proceeded -in loud tones: - -“My master bids me inform you that he can no longer be the means of -annoying a young lady whom he respects so much as Mademoiselle Pahlen. -She has requested that your letter may be returned to you again, and -declares that she knows no such person as yourself, and is quite at a -loss why she should be made the object of this strange persecution.” - -The rogue sang out the words as one repeating a lesson in which he has -been well drilled. - -As I stood staring at him, all other feelings swallowed up in the -overwhelming tide of my disappointment, I saw him, as in a dream, -toss the much-travelled note in the mud between us, turn on his heel, -exchange a grin with the nearest sentry, jerk his thumb over his -shoulder in my direction, tap his forehead significantly, and finally -swagger out of sight behind the little wicket. - -And still I stood immovable, unable to formulate a single thought in my -paralysed brain, the whole world before me a dull blank, yet knowing -that, when I should begin to feel again, it would be hell indeed. - -A shout from the sentry suddenly aroused me. - -“‘Tis better,” he called, “that you should move on.” - -And in good sooth what had I more to do before those gates? I mounted -my horse and rode backwards and forwards upon that wretched scrap of -paper that had been charged with all the dearest longings of my heart, -until it lay indistinguishable in the mud around it. Then I set spurs -to my jade, and we rode, a well-matched couple, away towards the -strange village where I was to meet János. - - * * * * * - -With the memory of that bitterest hour of his life burning so hot -within him that he could continue his sedentary task no longer, but -must rise and pace the room after the sullen way now well known to -János as betokening his master’s worst moments, Basil Jennico laughed -aloud. Pride must have a fall! God knows his pride had had falls -enough to kill the most robust of vices. - -Had ever man been so humiliated, so contemned as he? Had ever poor soul -been made to suffer more relentlessly where it had sinned? - -“I have been brought low, very low,” said he to himself, and thought of -the early days at Tollendhal when its young lord had deemed the whole -earth created for his use. Yet, even as he spoke, he knew in his heart -that the pride that was born in him would die with him only, and that -if it had been mastered awhile it was only but because love had been -stronger still. - -When he had taken the roturière unreservedly to his heart; when he -had returned from the mountains to seek reconciliation; when he had -followed her upon her flight, had twice besought her to return to him; -when he had made his third and last futile appeal in the face of a -slashing rebuff, pride had lain beneath the heel of love. He had been -beaten, after all, by a pride greater than his own; and he knew that -were she to call him even now, he would come to her bidding in spite of -all and through all. - -The boards of the narrow, irregular room creaked beneath his impatient -tread. Outside, the sounds of traffic were dying away. The last -belated coaches had clattered down the streets, the tall running -footman had extinguished his link. Basil Jennico turned instinctively -towards the south, like the restless compass-needle, a way that had -grown into a habit of late as his spirit strove to bridge across the -leagues of sea and land that lay between him and his wife. - -Was she thinking of him now? What was his curse was at the same time -his triumph: he defied her to forget him any more than he could forget -her! Those hours, had she not shared them with him? Come what would, no -man could lay claim to be to her what he had been. _No man—that way -madness lay!_... - -He looked round at the pages scored with his writings and gave a -heart-sick sigh, and then at the door of the room beyond, wherein -stood that huge four-post bed where he had tossed through such -sleepless hours and dreamed such dreams that the waking moment held the -bitterness of death. Next he thought of the town beyond, so full, yet -to him so empty. - -How to pass the time that went by with such leaden feet? The days were -bad enough, but the nights—the nights were terrible! Should he don his -most brilliant suit and hie him out into the throng of men of fashion? -Some of the Woschutzski gold would not come amiss at the dicing-table -of my Lady Brambury, or at the Cocoa-tree, or yet the Hummums, where -(his head being as strong as the best of them) he could crack a few -bottles in good company. Good company, forsooth! What could all the -world be to him for want of that one small being? He might drink -himself into oblivion, perhaps, a few hours’ oblivion, and be carried -home in the early morning and wake at midday with a new headache and -the old heartache. Pah! - -Of three evils choose the least: since the great feather bed would hold -no sleep yet awhile; since to drag his misery into company was to add -fire to its fever, Mr. Jennico sat down again to his task, hoping so to -weary his brain that it would grant him a few hours’ dreamless rest. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO’S MEMOIR CONTINUED - - -THERE is very little more to tell. The new inn wherein I found János -established was but a poor place in a poor village, a sort of summer -resort abandoned in winter-time save by its own wretched inhabitants. -The private chamber allotted to me—it was the only one—was bitter -cold, but my choice lay between that and the common room below, full of -evil smells and reeking boors and stifling stove heat. - -But I was in no mood to reck of bodily inconvenience. My further -action had to be determined upon; and, torn two ways between anger and -longing, I passed the evening and the greater part of the night in -futile battle with myself. - -At length I resolved upon a plan which brought some calm into my soul, -and with it a creeping ray of hope. - -I would lay my case before the Princess herself. She had been ever -kindly in her dealings towards me. I had no reason to imagine but that -she was well disposed in my favour; she had had no part in her maid -of honour’s double dealings with me: I would pray her to speak to the -wayward being on my behalf, to place before her her duty towards the -husband she had herself chosen. - -Thus next morning, as clearly, temperately, and respectfully as might -be, I indited my letter, sealed it upon each fold with the Jennico -coat-of-arms, and, after deliberation, despatched János with it. The -fellow had, according to my orders, purchased fresh horses, and cut a -better figure than the yesterday’s, when he set off upon his errand. -Duly and minutely instructed, he was to present himself at another -gate of the palace, and I trusted that, making good use of the purse -with which he was supplied, his mission might be more successfully -accomplished than had been mine. - -And indeed, so far as he was concerned, this was the case. He came -back sooner than I had supposed it possible, to inform me that, having -been able to say he was not from Budissin, he had been received with -civility, and permitted to wait at the guard-house of the north -entrance while my letter was carried to the palace. After a short time, -the messenger who had taken charge of it had returned, demanded and -carefully noted my name, qualities, and exact whereabouts, and bidden -him go back to his master with the assurance that the Princess would -send her answer. - -I waited, tramping the short breadth of my miserable room like a caged -wolf, anxiously peering every other minute through the rain-stained -window which overlooked the high road. - -Reason seemed to offer but one conclusion concerning the result of -the last appeal: she would come back to me. My offence—bad as it had -been, unmanly towards the woman who had lain in my arms, unworthy of -a gentleman towards the lady whom he had resolved to acknowledge as -his wife—my offence was not one that so true a penitence might not -amply atone for. That was what reason said. But, as often as confidence -began to rise in my heart, an instinctive dread overcame it, an -unaccountable, ominous misgiving that the happiness I had once held in -my hand and so perversely cast from me was never to be mine again. And, -as the hours slowly fell away, the dread became more poignant, and the -effort to hope more futile. - -János had returned with his message about noon. It must have been at -least five o’clock (for the world outside was wrapped in murky shadow) -when there came a sound on the road that made my heart leap: a clatter -of horses’ hoofs and the rumbling of a coach. I threw open my window -and thrust out my head. How vividly the impression comes back on me -now!—the cold rain upon my throbbing temples, the blinding light of -joy that filled my brain as I strained my eyes to distinguish in the -dusk the nature of the vehicle which announced its approach with such -important noise. It was a carriage, guarded by an escort of dragoons, -who rode by the door, musket on thigh. An escort! It must be the -Princess herself: the Princess come in person, the noble and gentle -lady, to bring me back my wife, my love! - -Fool! Fool! Fool thrice told! for my vainglorious self-conceit, my -loving, yearning heart! - -My spirits bounded at one leap to their old important, arrogant level. -I threw a hasty glance in the mirror to note that the pallor of my -countenance and the disorder of my unpowdered hair were after all -not unbecoming. As I dashed along the narrow wooden passage and down -the breakneck creaking stairs I will not say that in all the glow of -my heart, that had been so cold, there was not now, in this sudden -relief from the iron pressure of anxiety, a point of anger against the -little truant—a vague determination to establish a certain balance of -account, to inflict some mild penance upon her as a set-off against the -very bitter one she had imposed on me. A minute ago I would have knelt -before her and humbled myself to the very dust: when I reached the door -of the drinking-room I was already pluming myself upon a resolution to -be merciful. - -I broke into the room out of the darkness with my head high, and was at -first so dazzled by the light within, as well as by the reeling triumph -in my brain, that for an instant I could distinguish nothing. - -Then, with a sickening revulsion, with such rage as may have torn the -soul of Lucifer struck from the heights of heaven to the depths of -hell, I saw the single figure of Captain von Krappitz standing in the -middle of the floor with much gravity and importance of demeanour. -Flattened against the walls, the boors stood open-mouthed, all struck -with amazement; and the little host was bowing anxiously to the belaced -officer. Two dragoons guarded the door. - -Before even a word was uttered I felt that all was over for me. - -Concentrating my energies, then, to face misfortune with as brave a -front as I might, I halted before my friend of yesterday, and waited in -silence for him to open proceedings. - -He bowed to me with great courtesy, looking upon me the while with eyes -at once compassionate, curious, and yet respectful, as though upon one -of newly-discovered importance, and said: - -“I grieve, sir, to be the bearer of an order which may cause you -displeasure, but I beg you, being a soldier yourself, to consider me -only as the instrument which does not presume to judge but obeys. Be -pleased to read this—it is addressed to you.” - -I took the great sealed envelope with fingers as cold and heavy as -marble, broke it open mechanically, and read. At first it was without -any comprehension of the words, which were nevertheless set forth in a -very free, flowing hand, but presently, as the blood rushed in a tide -of sudden anger to my brain, with a quickening and redoubled intensity -of intelligence. - - “The Princess Marie Ottilie of Sachs-Lausitz,” so ran the precious - document, “has received M. de Jennico’s letter concerning a certain - lady. - - “M. de Jennico has already been given clearly to understand that his - importunities are distressing. - - “As the lady in question is a member of the Princess’s household, M. - de Jennico will not be surprised at the steps which are now taken to - secure her against further persecution. He is advised to accept the - escort of the officer who carries this letter, and warned that any - attempt at resistance, or any future infringement of the order issued - by command of his Serene Highness, will be visited in the severest - manner.” - -In a bloody heat of rage I looked up, ready for any folly—to -strangle the poor courteous little instrument of a woman’s implacable -resentment—to find death on the bayonets of the hulking sentinels at -the door, and be glad of it, so that I had shed somebody’s blood for -these insults! But, meeting Captain von Krappitz’s steady glance, I -paused. And in that pause my sense returned. - -If love itself be a madness, as they say, what name shall we give to -our wrath against those that we love! For that minute no poor chained -Bedlamite could have been more dangerously mad than I. But my British -dread of ridicule saved my life that day, and perhaps that of others -besides. - -Perhaps also the real pity, the sympathy, that was stamped on the -captain’s honest face had something to say to calming me. At any rate, -I recovered from my convulsion, and awoke to the fact that blood was -running down my shirt from where I had clenched my teeth upon my lip. - -I must have been a fearsome object to behold, and I have a good opinion -of Captain von Krappitz’s coolness that he should thus have stood and -faced a man of twice his size and, in such a frenzy, of probably four -times his strength, with never a signal to his guard or even a step in -retreat. - -Said this gentleman then, delicately averting his eyes from my -countenance, so soon as he saw I had come to my senses: - -“If you will glance at this paper you will see that my orders are -stringent, and I shall be greatly indebted to your courtesy if you -will co-operate in their being carried out in the least unpleasant -manner possible. Indeed, sir,” he added in my ear hastily and kindly, -“resistance would be worse than useless.” - -I glanced at the paper he presented to me, caught the words: “Order -to Captain Freiherr von Krappitz to convey M. de Jennico beyond the -frontier of Lusatia, at any point he may himself choose”; caught a -further glimpse of such expressions: “formal warning to M. de Jennico -never to set foot more within the dominions of the Duke of Lausitz,” -“severe penalty,” and so forth. I glanced, and tossed the paper -contemptuously on the table. - -That wife of mine had greater interest at the Court than she had been -wont to pretend, and she was using it to some purpose. She was mightily -determined that her offending husband should pay his debt to her pride, -to the last stripe of his punishment. - -I smiled in the bitterness of my soul. I was sane enough now, God -knows! - -Well, she should have her wish, she should be persecuted no longer. - -“I place myself entirely at your convenience,” said M. de Krappitz -discreetly, adding, however, the significant remark, “my order gives me -twelve hours.” - -He picked up the document as he spoke, folded it carefully, and placed -it in his breast pocket. - -“Oh, as for me,” said I, “I ask for no respite.” (Could I desire to -waste a second before shaking the dust of this cursed country from -my feet?) “The time but to warn my servant and bid him truss up my -portmanteau and saddle the horses. I understand,” I added, with what, -I fear, was a withering smile, “that you are kind enough to offer me a -seat in your carriage?” - -“Ah, my dear sir,” returned the little man, with an expression of -relief, “what a delightful thing it is to deal with an homme d’esprit!” - -And so, in scarce half-an-hour’s time, the triumphal procession was -ready to set forth. I entered the coach, the Freiherr took his seat -behind me, János, impassive, mounted his horse between two dragoons, -whilst my own mount was led by a third soldier in the rear. And in this -order we set off at a round pace for the Silesian frontier, where I -begged to be deposited. - -At first my good-tempered and garrulous escort tried in vain to -beguile me into some conversation upon such abstract subjects as music -and poetry. But his well-meant efforts failed before my hopeless -taciturnity, and it was in silence that we concluded the transit -between Rothenburg and the border. - -As we parted, however, he held out his hand. “Sans rancune, camarade,” -said he. - -What could I do but clasp the good-natured little paw as heartily as -I might, and echo, although most untruly, “Sans rancune”? To the very -throat I was full of rancour for everything belonging to Lusatia, and I -swear the bitterness of it lay a palpable taste on my tongue. - -A free man again, I threw myself upon my horse, and took the -straightest road for my empty home. János had the wit to speak no word -to me, save a direction now and again as to the proper way. And we rode -like furies through the cold, wet night. - -“Breed a fine stock ...” had said my good uncle to his heir. - -At least, I thought—and the sound of my laugh rang ghastly even in my -own ears—if I have brought roture into the family, I am not like now -to graft it on the family tree! - - - - -CHAPTER III - -CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO’S MEMOIR, RESUMED THREE MONTHS LATER, AT -FARRINGDON DANE - - - SUFFOLK, _14th April, 1772_. - -I HAD thought upon that day when, in my ill temper, I irreparably -insulted my wife, that I could never bring myself to face the exposure -which a return to England would necessarily bring about. But when I -found the desolation and the haunting memories of Tollendhal like to -rob me of all I had left of reason and manliness; when, to my restless -spirit, the thought of home seemed to promise some chance of diversion -and relief, I did not hesitate. Without delay I set to work to put -matters at Tollendhal upon a sufficiently regular scale, also to have -realised and transferred to my London bankers a sum of money large -enough to meet any reasonable demand. This business accomplished, in -less than a month from the date of the ill-fated Rothenburg expedition -I found myself breathing my native air again. - -Before my departure I charged Schultz—and I know I can rely upon his -faithfulness—to be perpetually on the look-out for any communication -from Lausitz, and to be ready to give any one immediate cognisance of -my whereabouts. It is a forlorn hope. - -Although the humour had come upon me to go back to my own land—after -the fashion, I fancy, that a sick man deems he will be better anywhere -than where he is—and although I did not hesitate to gratify that -humour, I was, nevertheless, not blind to the peculiar position I must -occupy among my people. I had no desire to lay claim to the honours I -had so prematurely announced, no desire to present myself under false -colours, even were such an imposture likely to succeed; but neither -did I see why I should lay bare to the jeers of the fashionable world, -to the sneers of dear relatives and friends, or, more intolerable -still, to their compassion, the whole pitiful plot of that comedy which -has turned to such tragedy for me. So, when I wrote to my mother to -announce my arrival, I adopted a purposely evasive tone. - - “It is deeply unfortunate,” I wrote, “that you should have broken the - bond of secrecy which I enjoined upon you when I informed you of my - intended marriage. You know too much of the world, my dear mother, - not to understand that when a commoner like myself, however well - born and dowered, would contract an alliance with the heiress of - a reigning house, it is more than likely that there may be a ’slip - ’twixt the cup and the lip.’ My cup has been spilt. I come home, a - broken-hearted man, to find myself, I fear, owing to your breach of - confidence, the laughing-stock of our society. But the yearning for - home is too strong upon me to be resisted; I am returning to England - at once. If you would not add yet more to the bitterness of my lot you - will strenuously deny the report you indiscreetly spread, and warn - curiosity-mongers from daring to probe a wound which I could not bear - even your hand to touch.” - -These words, by which I intended to spare myself at least the -humiliation of personal explanation, have produced an unexpected -effect. My poor mother performed her task so well that I find myself -quite as much the hero of the hour over here as if I had brought back -my exalted bride. - -The mystery in which I am shrouded, the obvious melancholy of my -demeanour, the very indifference with which I receive all notice, -added, of course, to my wealth, and possibly to the belief that I -am still a prize in the matrimonial market, my extraordinary luck -at cards, when I can be induced to play, my carelessness to loss or -gain—all this has placed me upon a pinnacle which is as gratifying to -my mother as (or, so I hear, for I have declined all reconciliation -with the renegade) it is galling to my brother and his family. - -But the best yet, so far as I am concerned, is that no one has dared to -put to me an indiscreet question, and that even my mother, although her -wistful eyes implore my confidence, respects my silence. - -Now, having tried in vain to find a solace in the pleasures of town, -I have betaken myself to that part of the island which is the cradle -of our race, to try whether a taste of good old English sport may not -revive some interest in my life. - -Often in that last month at Tollendhal, when the whole land was locked -in ice and the grey sky looked down pitilessly upon the white earth, -day by day, with never a change and scarcely a shadow, I thought of -the green winters of my youth in the old country; of rousing gallops, -with the west wind in my face, across wide fields all verdant still -and homely; of honest English faces, English voices, the tongue of the -hounds, the blast of the cracked horn, with almost a passion of desire. -It seemed to me that, if I could be back in the midst of it all again, -I might feel as the boy Basil had felt, and be rid, were it but for the -space of a good cross-country run, of that present Basil Jennico whose -brain was so weary of working upon the same useless round, whose heart -was so sore within him. - -So soon therefore as the weather broke—for the winter has been -hard even in this milder climate—I accepted my mother’s offer of -her dower-house, set up a goodly stable of hunters, and established -myself at the Manor of Farringdon Dane. I have actually derived some -satisfaction from a couple of days’ sport, to which a sight of my lord -brother’s discomfiture, each time I cut him deliberately in the face of -the whole field, has added perhaps a grain. - - * * * * * - - _April 29th._ - -I am this day like the man in the Gospel who, having driven out -the devil from his heart and swept and garnished it, finds himself -presently possessed of seven devils worse than the first! The demon of -wrath I had exorcised, I believed, long ago; the fiend of unrest and -longing I had thought these days to have laid too. In spite of her too -obdurate resentment, I had no feeling for my wife, wherever she might -be, but tenderness. Now, oh, Ottilie, Ottilie! do I most hate thee -or love thee? I know not, by my soul! Yet this at least I do know: -mine thou art, and mine thou shalt remain, though we never meet again -on earth: mine, as I am thine, though the true, good race of Jennico -wither and die on my barren stock. - -But what serves it to rant in this fashion to myself when I have not -even the satisfaction of hearing a contradiction—not even an excuse -to shake my fury? Small satisfaction likewise has that puling, mincing -messenger to carry back to you, my wife. Poor old man! I am fain to -laugh even in my anger when I recall his panic-stricken countenance of -an hour ago. - -The hounds were to meet at ten this morning at Sir Percy Spalding’s, -not three miles from here, and so I was taking the day easy. I had but -just finished breakfast, and was standing on the steps of the porch -quaffing a draught of ale, as I awaited my horse, sniffing the while -the moist southern wind; and my thoughts for once were pleasantly -occupied—for once the gnawing canker was at rest within me. Presently -my attention was awakened by the rumbling sound of wheels; and, looking -towards the avenue, yet so sparsely be-leaved as to afford a clear view -down its whole length, I saw coming along it, at slow pace, a heavy -vehicle, which in time disclosed itself as a shabby, hired travelling -chaise, drawn by an ancient horse, and driven by that drunken scoundrel -Bateman from Yarmouth, once a familiar figure to my childish eyes. My -heart leaped. I expected no one—my mother was at Cheltenham for the -waters—no one, save, indeed, her whom I ever unconsciously await! - -It was perhaps the unreasonable disappointment that fell upon me, when, -gazing eagerly for a glimpse of the occupant, as the carriage lumbered -through the inner gate, I saw that it contained but the single figure -of an old man (huddled, despite the spring warmth of the day, in furs -to the very chin) that turned me into so bitter and black a temper. - -Even as the chaise drove up before the steps, and as I stood staring -down at it, motionless, although within me there was turmoil enough, -the fellows came round with my horses. Bess, the Irish mare, took -umbrage at the little grotesque figure that, with an alertness one -would scarcely have given it credit for, skipped from the chaise, -looking more like one of those images I have seen on Saxon clocks than -anything human. How she plunged and how the fool that held her stared, -and how I cursed him for not minding his business—it was a vast relief -to my feelings—and how the old gentleman regarded us as one newly come -among savages, and how he finally advanced upon me mincing—I laugh -again to think back upon it! But I had no mind to laughter then. ’Twas -plain, before he opened his mouth to speak, that my visitor hailed -from foreign parts. And at closer acquaintance the reason why, even -from a distance, he had appeared to me as something less than human, -became evident. His countenance was shrivelled and seared by recent -smallpox; scarred in a manner perfectly fantastic to behold. - -That curse of my life, that persistent hope—I believe I could get -along well enough, but ’tis the hope that kills me—began to stir -within me. - -“Have I the honour of speaking to Captain Basil de Jennico?” said the -puppet in French; and before the question was well out of his mouth, I -had capped it with another, breathless: - -“Come you not from Rothenburg?” - -He bowed and scraped: each saw he had his answer. I was all civility -now, Heaven help me! and cordial enough to make up for a more -discourteous reception. - -I ordered my horses back to the stables, dismissed the chaise, in spite -of the newcomer’s protestations, and led him within the house, calling -for refreshments for him; all the while a thousand questions, to which -I yet dreaded the answers, burning on my tongue. - -I had installed him in the deepest armchair in the apartment I -habitually used; I had kindled a fire with my own hands, for he was -shivering in his furs, whether from fear, embarrassment, or cold, I -know not—maybe all three together; I had placed a glass of wine at his -elbow, which he sipped nervously when I pressed him; and then, when I -knew that I should hear what had brought him, from very cowardliness I -was mute. It seemed to me as if my courtesies embarrassed him, and that -this augured ill, although (I reasoned with myself) if she should send -me a messenger at all, I ought to anticipate good tidings. - -“I am fortunate, sir,” began the old man in quavering tones, “to find -you at home. Sir, I have come a long way to seek you. I went first -to your castle at Tollendhal, where your steward, a countryman of my -own, to whose politeness I am much indebted, gave me very careful -instructions as to the road to your English domicile. A most worthy and -amiable person! I should not so soon have had the advantage of making -your acquaintance had it not been for the help he gave me. I have come -by Yarmouth, sir: the wind was all in our favour. I am informed we had -a good passage.” Here he shivered, and a yet greener shade underspread -the scars upon his brow. “But I am not accustomed to the sea, and I -have been ill, sir, lately, very ill.” - -He coughed awkwardly, reached out his trembling hand for the wine, but -put down the glass again untasted. - -“Surely I am right in believing,” said I, “that you come from some -one very dear to me—from one from whom I am parted by a series of -unfortunate misunderstandings?” I felt my lips grow cold as I spoke, -and I know that I panted. - -“If you have a letter,” said I, “give it to me.” - -I reached out my hand, and saw, with a strange sort of self-pity, that -it shook no less than had the old man’s withered claw. - -“Or if you have a message,” cried I, breaking out at last, “speak, for -God’s sake!” - -He drew back from my impetuosity. There was fear of me in his eye; at -the same time, I thought, with a chill about my heart, compassion. - -“My good sir,” he said, between “hums” and “ha’s” which well-nigh -drove me distracted, “I believe I may say—in fact, I will venture to -assert that I have come from the—ahem, ahem!—young lady I apprehend -you speak of. I have been made aware of the—ah, hum!—unfortunate -circumstances. The young lady——.” Here he hitched himself up in his -chair and began to fumble in the skirts of his floating coat. Between -his furs and his feebleness this was a sufficiently lengthy operation -to give time for my hopes to kindle stronger again and my small stock -of patience to fail. - -“You are doubtless prepared to hear,” he went on at length, “that -the young lady, being now fully alive to the consequence of -her—her—ill-considered conduct—a girlish freak, sir, a child’s, I -may say!—believes that she will be meeting your wishes, nay, your -express desire, by joining with you in an application to his Holiness -for the immediate annulment of so irregular a marriage.” - -“What?” cried I with a roar, leaping from my chair. So occupied had -I been in watching the movements of his hands as he fingered a great -pocket-book, expecting him every instant to produce a letter from her -to me, that I had scarce heeded the drift of his babble till the last -words struck upon my ear. - -“Annul our marriage!” I thundered, “at my desire! In the devil’s name, -who are you, and whence come you, for it could not be my wife who has -sent you with such a message to me?” - -The little man had jumped, too, at my violence—like a grasshopper. But -my question evidently touched his pride in a sensitive quarter, and -roused him to a sense of offence in which he forgot his tremors. - -“Truly, sir, truly, you remind me,” he said tartly. “If you will have -but a little patience, I was in the very act of seeking my credentials -when you so—ahem!—impetuously interrupted me.” - -As he spoke, with a skip and a bow, which recalled I know not what -vague memory of a bygone merry hour, he drew forth a folded sheet, and, -unfolding it, presented it to me. I knew the handwriting too well to -doubt its authenticity. How often had I conned and kissed the few poor -lines she had ever written to me; ay, although they had been penned in -her assumed character! - - “TO M. DE JENNICO— - - “I empower M. de Schreckendorf to act for me in the affair M. de - Jennico wots of, and I agree beforehand to all his arrangements.” - - (Thereto the signature.) - -Not a word more; not a word of regret, even of anger! The same -implacable, unbending resentment. - -I stood staring at the lines, reading them and re-reading them, and -each letter seemed to print itself like fire upon my soul. I heard, as -in a dream, my visitor pour forth further explanations, still in that -tone of injury my roughness had evoked. - -“I am myself, sir, a friend. Yes, I may say a friend, an old friend, of -the young lady. Her parents—ahem!—have always reposed confidence in -me. I, sir, am M. de Schreckendorf. The very fact, I should think, of -my being in possession of this letter, of this document”—here there -was a great rattling of stiff parchment—“will assure you, I should -hope, of my identity. Nevertheless, if you wish further proof, I have a -letter to our ambassador in London, and I am willing to accompany you -to his house, or meet you there at your convenience. Indeed, it would -perhaps be more proper and correct, in every way, that the whole matter -should be settled and the documents duly attested at the residence of -the accredited representative of Lusatia. I will not disguise to you -that his Serene Highness, the Duke himself, takes—takes an interest -in the lady, and is desirous of having this business, which so nearly -affects the welfare and credit of a well-known member of his Court, -settled in the promptest and most efficacious manner. A sad escapade, -you must admit yourself!” - -And all the while my heart was crying out within me in an agony, “Oh, -Ottilie, how could you, how could you? Was the memory of those days -nothing to you? Is the knowledge of my love and sorrow nothing to you? -Are you a woman, and have you no forgiveness?” - -Taking perhaps my silence for acquiescence (for this messenger of -my wife, albeit entrusted with so delicate a mission, was no shrewd -diplomatist), M. de Schreckendorf here spread out with an agreeable -flourish an amazing-looking Latin document with rubrics ready filled -up, it seemed, but for certain spaces left blank, for the names, I -suppose, of the appealing parties. - -“I have been led to understand,” pursued he then in tones of greatly -increased confidence, “that you entirely concur in the lady’s desire -for the annulment of this contestable union, the actual legality -of which, indeed, is too doubtful to be worth discussing. From the -religious point of view, however, one of chief importance to my young -friend (I think I may call her so), the matter is otherwise serious, -for there was, no doubt, a sacrament administered by a priest, duly -ordained, but unfortunately, through old age and natural infirmity, -wanting in due prudence, and further misled as to the identity of -one of the contracting persons. A sacrament, sir, there undoubtedly -was; but I am glad to inform you that special leading divines have -been already approached upon the subject, and they give good hope, -sir, good hope, that a properly drawn up petition, supported by the -signatures of the two persons concerned, will meet at Rome with most -favourable consideration. The ecclesiastical part of the difficulty -once settled, the legal one goes of itself.” - -I was gradually becoming attentive to the run of his glib speech. I -hardly know now how I contained myself so far, but I kept a rigid -silence, and for yet another minute or two gave him all my ear. - -“Such being the case,” he continued, “I need hardly trouble you to -disturb yourself by journeying all the way to London. We need proceed -no farther than Yarmouth, indeed, and there in the presence of two -competent witnesses—I would suggest a priest of our religion and some -neighbouring gentleman of substance—all you will have to do is just -to sign this document. I repeat, I understand that you are naturally -anxious likewise to be delivered from a marriage in which you have -considered yourself aggrieved: and not unnaturally.” Here the little -monster threw a sly look at me, and added: “You were made the victim -of a little deception, eh? Then in the course of a few months—Rome is -always slow, you know—you will both be as free as air! With no more -loss to either of you than the loss of—ahem!—a little inexperience.” - -As free as air! _Ottilie as free as air!_ Then it was that the violence -of my wrath overflowed. That moment is a blank to my memory. I only -know that I heard the sound of my own voice ringing with shattering -violence in the room, and I came to myself again to find that, with -a strength my fury alone could have lent, I was shredding the tough -parchment between my fingers, so that the ground was strewn with its -rags. What most restored me to something like composure was the abject -terror of the unlucky messenger, who, huddled away from me in a corner -of the room, was peeping round a chair at me, much as you might see a -monkey caught in mischief. His teeth were chattering! Good anger was -wasted on so miserable an object, and indeed the feelings that swayed -me had had roots in ground such as he could never tread upon. - -“Come out, M. de Schreckendorf,” I said, with a calmness which -surprised myself—but there are times when a man’s courage rises with -the very magnitude of a calamity—“you have nothing to fear from me. -You will want an answer to carry back to her that sent you. Take her -this.” - -I stooped as I spoke, and gathered together the shreds of the -document, folded them in a great sheet of paper, and tied it with -ribbon into a neat parcel. - -“Not a word,” I went on; “I will hear no more! When you have rested and -partaken of refreshment, one of my carriages will be at your disposal -for whatever point you may desire to reach to-day. Stay, you will want -some evidence to show that you have fulfilled your embassy.” - -Sitting down to my writing-table, I hastily addressed the packet to -“Madame Basil de Jennico,” adding thereafter her distinctive title -as maid of honour. This done, I sealed it with my great seal, M. de -Schreckendorf meanwhile uttering uncouth little groans. - -“Here, sir,” said I, holding out the packet with its bold inscription, -“they will no longer, it is evident, deny the existence at the Court of -Lusatia of the person I have here addressed. Here, sir. Take this to my -wife, and tell her that her husband has more respect than she has for -the holy sacrament he received with her. Here, sir!” - -At every “Here, sir,” I advanced a step upon him, holding out the -bundle, and at every step I took he retreated, till impatiently I flung -it on the table nearest him, and making him a low ironical bow of -farewell, turned to leave him. - -I paused a moment on the threshold of the room, however, and had the -satisfaction of seeing him, after throwing his hands heavenwards, as if -in despairing protest, bring them down again on the packet and proceed -to stuff it into the recesses of his coat. - -I turned once more to go, when to my surprise he called after me in -tones unexpectedly stern and loud: - -“Young man, young man, this is a grave mistake; have a care!” - -I shrugged my shoulders and slammed the door upon his warning cry. Nor, -though he subsequently sent twice by my servants—first to demand, then -to supplicate, a further interview—would I consent to parley with him -again. - -I passed a couple of restless hours, until, at length, from an upper -window I saw him depart from my house in far greater state and comfort -than he had come. - -Now, as I write, I know that he is being whirled along the Yarmouth -road at the best pace of my fine horses, speeding back to Lausitz to -take my wife my eloquent answer. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - NARRATIVE OF AN EPISODE AT WHITE’S CLUB, IN WHICH CAPTAIN JENNICO WAS - CONCERNED, SET FORTH FROM CONTEMPORARY ACCOUNTS - - -THE tenth hour of an October night had rung out over a fog-swathed -London; yet, despite the time of year, unfashionable for town life, -despite the unpropitious weather, the long card-room at White’s was -rapidly filling. The tables, each lit by its own set of candles, shone -dimly like a little green archipelago in a sea of mist. Groups were -gathering round sundry of these boards; the dice had begun to rattle, -voices to ring out. The nightly scene was being repeated, wherein all -were actors, down to the waiters, who had their private bets, and lost -and won with their patrons. - -Somewhat apart in the seclusion of a window-recess, cosily ensconced -so as to profit of the warmth of the great yellow fire, sat three -gentlemen. A fourth chair remained vacant at their table; and from -the impatient glances which two of the party now and again turned -upon the different doors, it was evident that the arrival of its -expected occupant was overdue. The third gentleman, who bore the stamp -of a distinctly foreign race,—although his hair, which he wore but -slightly powdered, was of a fair hue, and his face rather sanguine -than dark,—seemed to endure the delay with complete indifference. -His attention was wholly given to the shuffling of a pack of cards, -which he manipulated with extreme dexterity, while he listened to his -companions’ remarks with impassive countenance. He was a handsome -man, despite a bulk of frame and feature which almost amounted to -coarseness; hardly yet in the prime of life, with full blue eyes -and full red lips, which took, when he spoke or smiled, a curious -curve, baring the canine in almost sinister fashion. The Chevalier -de Ville-Rouge, introduced at White’s by the Prussian Ambassador, as -a distinguished officer of the great Frederick visiting England for -his pleasure, had shown himself so daring a player as to be welcomed -among the most noted gamblers. He had lost and won large sums with -great breeding, and had in his six weeks’ stay contrived to improve -an imperfect knowledge of an alien tongue in such fashion as to make -intercourse with his English companions quite sufficiently easy. - -The youngest of the trio at the table in the corner, this foggy -night, was naturally the one to display his feelings most openly. A -clean-faced, square-built English lad, fresh it would seem from the -playing fields of school, yet master of his title and fortune, and -cornet in the Life Guards, Sir John Beddoes was already a familiar -figure in the club, as indeed his finances could bear doleful -testimony. The green cuff-guards adjusted over his delicate ruffles, -the tablets and pencil ready at his elbow, it was clear he was itching -to put another slice of his patrimony to the hazard. His opposite -neighbour, Beau Carew (as he dearly loved to hear himself dubbed), was -a man of another kidney, and fifteen years of nights, systematically -turned into days, had left their stamp upon features once noted for -their beauty. Though ready now with a sneer or jest for his companion’s -youthful eagerness, his eyes wandering restlessly from the clock to the -doors betrayed an almost equal anxiety to begin the business of the -evening. - -“Devil take Jennico!” cried the Baronet at last, striking the table -so that the dice leaped in their box; “‘pon my soul it’s too bad! He -gave me an appointment here at ten to-night, and it wants now but six -minutes to eleven.” - -“Bet he comes before the clock strikes,” interposed Mr. Carew; “ten -guineas?” - -“Done with you, Dick,” said Sir John promptly. - -The bet was registered, and five minutes passed in watching the -timepiece on the mantel-shelf: all the young Baronet’s eagerness being -now against the event he had been burning to hasten. The strokes rang -out. With a smile he held out his broad palm, into which Carew duly -dropped ten pieces. - -“‘Tis the first bit of luck the fellow has brought me yet. Gad, I -believe my luck has turned! Why the devil don’t he come, that I may -ease him of a little of that superfluous wealth of his? I swear he gets -more swollen day by day, while we grow lean—eh, Carew?—like the kine -in the Bible. D—— him!” - -“The water goes to the river, as the French say, in spite of all our -dams,” sniggered Carew; “but as for me I am content that you should go -on playing with Jennico so that I may back him; my purse has not been -in such good condition for many a long day. Poor devil! How monstrous -unfortunate his amours must still be! I only wish,” with a conscious -wriggle, “he could give me the recipe.” - -“Yet you have lost on him now,” retorted Beddoes, tapping his breast -pocket, “and if you back him to-night, you lose on him again, I warn -you. I am in the vein, I tell ye! But there is the quarter! Rot him, -I believe he is going to rat after all! Bet you he don’t come till -half-past, Carew. Fifty?” - -“Done,” said Carew quietly, noting down the entry. “He _is_ erratic, I -grant you—he, he, he!—did you note me, Chevalier? But he has a taste -for the table, though I believe he’d as soon lose as win, were it only -for the sake of change. ’Tis about all he cares for—the dullest dog! -Bet you there is not a man in the room has heard him laugh.” - -“You won’t find any fool to take up that bet, Carew. Heigh-ho! I’d -willingly accommodate myself with a little of his melancholy at the -price.” - -“Better look up a princess for yourself then, Jack,” said Carew; -“perhaps the Chevalier here can give you an introduction to some other -fascinating German Highness.” - -“Won’t it do over here?” asked Beddoes, with a grin. “D’ye think I’d -have a chance with Augusta? Twenty past! Let him keep away till the -half-hour now. Zounds! ’twould be a mean trick if he failed me on my -lucky night; though I don’t want him for ten minutes yet. He has fairly -cleared me out; the team will have to go next if I don’t get back some -of my I O U’s.” - -“Why, it would be a very good thing for thee, Jack, if he played thee -false. I say so though I should lose most damnably by it. Thy team -will go, thy coaches will go, thy carts, thy grooms, thy dog, thy cat. -Why, man, thou must lose—’tis as plain as the nose on Lady Maria’s -face. And he must win, poor wretch, and I too, since I back him. Ask -the Chevalier if it is not a text of truth all the world over: lucky -at cards, unlucky in love. Never look so sulky, boy; ’tis providential -compensation.” - -“You surprise _me_, gentlemen,” said the Chevalier, with a strong -guttural accent, lifting as he spoke his heavy lids for the first -time. “I was not aware that Captain Jennico was so afflicted in his -affections.” - -“You surprise _me_, Chevalier,” returned Carew gaily. “I deemed you -and he such friends. Why, I won a hundred from my Lord Ullswater but -yestereven by wagering him that you would be the only man in the room -to whom Jennico would speak more than ten words within the hour. The -counting was not difficult. He said sixty-four to you and five to Jack.” - -“Mr. Jennico has certainly shown me both kindness and sympathy,” said -the Chevalier, who had now folded his strong white hands over the pack -of cards, and sat the very embodiment of repose. “Doubtless our having -both served in the same part of the world, though under different -standards, has somewhat drawn us together: but he has not made me his -confidant.” - -“And so you don’t know the tale of Jennico and the Princess? ’Tis a -dashed fine tale. Carew, you are a wit, or think you are—it comes to -much the same thing: tune up, man, give your version; for,” turning to -the Chevalier again, “there are now as many versions current as days in -the month. ’Tis twenty-five minutes past; you had better get your I O U -ready, Master Carew.” - -“I have three hundred chances yet,” said Carew. Then turning to the -foreigner, “Would you really, sir, care to hear the true story of our -friend’s discomfiture? I am about the only man in town that knows the -_true_ one; but all that’s old scandal now—town talk of last year, as -stale as Lady Villiers’s nine virgin daughters. There are a dozen new -ones since. Would you not rather hear the last of his Royal Highness -the Duke of C. and Lady W.? That is choice if you like, and as fresh as -Rosalinda’s last admirer—eh, John?” - -“I am not fond,” said the Chevalier drily, “of hearing those discussed -who, being High Born, have the right to claim respect and homage. But -I confess to some interest in my friend Mr. Jennico.” - -“Begad, then,” responded Mr. Carew, flicking a grain of snuff from the -ruffles of his pouting bosom, “I cannot promise to spare your scruples -concerning scandal in high quarters, for the heroine of the romance -is, it would appear, one of your own German royalties; but since you -wish the story, you shall have it. There is then a certain Dorothea -Maria Augusta Carolina Sophia, etc., etc., daughter of some Duke of -Alsatia, Swabia, Dalmatia—no, stay, Lusatia, wherever that may be; -ay, that’s the name—one of your two hundred odd principalities—you -know all about it, I don’t—and Jennico, who, as you are aware, was in -the Imperial service, met this wondrously beautiful Princess at some -Court function somewhere. They danced, they conversed, she was fair and -he was fond—fill it in for yourself. He thought himself a tremendous -cock of the walk; to be brief, he aspired to act King Cophetua and -the beggar maid, turned the other way, with the exception that he is -as rich as Crœsus. He made so sure of the lady’s favour that he wrote -over to his mother to announce the marriage as a settled thing. A royal -alliance, with the prospect of speedily mounting to the throne on the -strength of his wife’s pretensions! Ha, ha!” - -“‘Tis a droll story,” said the Chevalier gravely; “and then?” - -“Oh, then!—Zounds! you can conceive the flutter in the dovecot over -him. My Lady Jennico, his mother, was blown out with pride, swimming in -the higher regions, a perfect balloon! Gad, she would no longer bow to -any one less than a Duke! She ran hither and thither cackling the news -like the hen that has laid an egg. She sent—I was told on the best -authority—to the Lord Chamberlain to know what precedence the young -couple would be given at the next Birthday. She called at the College -of Arms to inquire about the exact marshalling of the coat of Lusatia -with that of Jennico. He, he! And whether the resultant monstrosity -would comport a royal crown!” - -“Faith, that’s a good one,” said Sir John, with a guffaw; “I had not -heard _that_, Carew.” - -“Fact, fact, I assure you,” smiled the wit. - -“Very droll,” repeated M. de Ville-Rouge, with impassive muscles. - -“When,” continued Carew, “lo and behold, what a falling off was there, -as young Roscius says! What a come down! Humpty-Dumpty was nothing to -it—poor Lady Jennico’s egg! Ah! well, we all know pride must have a -fall. Your fair compatriot, sir, had but amused herself with the fine -Englishman, for which I would be loath to blame her. She gave him, -it is said, indeed, every pledge of her affection. But when he began -to prate of rings and marriage lines, and pressed her to become Mrs. -Jennico, she found him a little too presumptuous—at least, I take it -so; and being, it would seem, of a merry turn of mind, devised a little -joke to play upon him. Pretending to yield at last to his urgency, she -gave her consent to a secret marriage, and in the dark chapel palmed -off her chambermaid upon him! Ha, ha! So the poor devil, carrying off -his bride by night in high glee, thinking himself a very fine fellow -indeed, never discovered till he had brought her home that he had given -his hand and name to a squinting, sausage-nosed, carroty maid, daughter -of the Court confectioner, called in baptism by the Princess’s names, -like half the girls in the town. The story goes that the Princess with -all the Court were waiting at his house to see the happy pair arrive, -and I have had secret, but absolutely incontestable, information that -the Princess laughed till she had to be bled.” - -M. de Ville-Rouge smiled at last in evident appreciation of the humour -of the situation. - -“It is, on my honour, a most comic story,” he said. “But how come you -so well acquainted with the matter? Surely my poor friend Jennico has -ill-chosen his confidant.” - -“Devil a word have I heard from Jennico,” said Carew. “Faith, he has -ever been the same cheerful, conversational fellow you wot of, and -it would take a bold man to question him. But truth, you know, will -out—truth will out in time.” - -“Ay,” said the Chevalier, and was shaken with silent merriment. - -“Half-past eleven,” roared the Baronet, suddenly, stretching out a -great paw and snapping his fingers under the beau’s face. - -“Zounds!” cried the wit, turning to look at the clock with some -discomposure; “no, Jack, no, there is still a fraction of a minute—the -half-hour has not struck. And, by Heaven, here’s our man! Had you not -better sup with Rosalinda to-night?” - -Sir John, in the act of looking round pettishly—he had not yet -reached that enviable state of mind in which a gambler declares that -the greatest delight after winning is that of losing—found his -attention unexpectedly arrested by the countenance of the Chevalier -de Ville-Rouge, which presented at that moment such an extraordinary -appearance that the young man forgot his irritation, and remained -gazing at it in open-mouthed astonishment. - -The features, usually remarkable for their set, rather heavy composure, -were perturbed to the verge of distortion. The whole face was stained -with angry purple, the veins of the forehead swollen like whipcord. - -Sir John Beddoes’s wits were none of the sharpest, but it was clear -even to him that the emotion thus expressed was one of furious -disappointment. - -But while he cudgelled his brains for an explanation of this sudden -humour in a man who was neither winner nor loser by Basil Jennico’s -appearance, the face of the Chevalier resumed its wonted indifferent -expression and dulness of hue with a rapidity that altogether -confounded the observer. - -By this time the tall figure of the new-comer had wended its way down -the room and was close upon them. All turned to greet him, and poor Sir -John found his feelings once more subjected to a shock. - -The acquaintances of Basil Jennico were accustomed to find his brow -charged with gloom, to see his cheek wear the pallor of one who sleeps -little and thinks much. But in his demeanour to-night was more than -the usual sombreness, on his countenance other than natural pallor. -As he stood for a moment responding absently to the Chevalier’s hearty -greeting, and Carew’s bantering salutation of “All hail!” it became -further apparent that his dress was disordered, that his ruffles were -torn and blood-stained, that his brocade jacket was jaggedly rent upon -the left side, and also ominously stained here and there. - -“Gadzooks, man!” exclaimed Carew, his bleared grey eyes lighting at -the prospect of a new wholesale scandal for his little retail shop. -“What has happened thee? Wounded? How? Ah, best not inquire perhaps! -Beddoes, lad, see you he has got reasons for his delay. Who knows but -that you may have a chance to-night after all. A deadly dig, well -aimed under the fifth rib, a true Benedick’s pinking; or shall we say -goring?—ahem! Have a care, Jennico, these wounds from horned beasts -are reputed ill to heal. Ah, sad dog, sad dog! I will warrant thou hast -had the balance nevertheless to thy credit. Now do I remember a little -lady was casting very curious looks at you at Almack’s last night.” - -Basil had flung himself into the chair that had so long awaited him, -and seemed to lend but a half-apprehending ear to the prattler on his -left, who, as he leant towards him, was hardly able to restrain his -eager hand from fingering the hurt so unmistakably evidenced. On the -right the Chevalier as unsuccessfully pressed him with earnest queries, -manifesting, it would seem, a genuine anxiety. - -“Great God, my friend! what has happened?” - -The stentorian tones of Sir John Beddoes, who saw an opportunity of -retrieving his fortunes, here broke in hastily upon Carew’s flow of -words: “Bet you double or quits it was _not_ Lady Sue,” and aroused Mr. -Jennico’s attention. - -“I should be loath to spoil sport,” he said, “but I advise no one to -bet on my bonnes fortunes. This scratch—for it is nothing more, Mr. -Carew, and I would show it to you with pleasure in reward for your -flattering interest, but the surgeon has just bound it up very neatly, -and it would be a pity to disturb his handiwork—is but the sixth of -a series of attempts on my life, made within the last six weeks, by -persons unknown, for purposes likewise unknown.” - -“Dash it, Jennico, you might have let me enter the bet,” said the -Baronet sulkily, while Carew, sniffing a choicer titbit of gossip than -he had expected, wriggled with pleasure, and the Chevalier expressed -unbounded amazement that such a state of things could exist, above all -in England. - -“It is even so,” resumed Basil, turning to the last speaker as if glad -to give vent to some of his pent-up irritation. “I confess that when I -returned to my native land I did expect to find at least a quiet life. -Why, in my house at Tollendhal, where those who surrounded me were -half savages, ruled by the stick and the halter, where it was deemed -imprudent for the master to walk the roads without his body-guard, -there was never so much as a stone thrown after me. But here, in old -England, my life, I believe, would not be worth backing for a week.” He -looked round with a smile in which melancholy and disdain were blended. - -“Now, d—— me!” cried Sir John, struck in his easy good nature into -sudden warmth and sympathy, “nay, now d—— me, Jennico! I will take -any man a hundred guineas that you are alive this day month.” - -“Done!” said the Chevalier, with such unexpected energy that all three -turned round to look at him with surprise; perceiving which he went on, -laughing to conceal an evident embarrassment: “Your betting habits here -are infectious, but while I will not withdraw, I am prepared to be glad -to lose rather than gain for once.” He fixed Basil across the table -with his brooding eye as he spoke, and bowed to him, then turned to -the Baronet. “No, Sir Beddoes, I am not going to recede from the wager.” - -This, as a wager worth recording, was forthwith entered into the club -book. Basil looked on, half in amusement, half in bitterness. - -“‘Tis likely, after all,” he said, addressing Sir John, “that you may -win and that the Chevalier may be afforded the pleasure of losing, for -I seem to bear a charmed life. Perhaps,” he added with a sigh, “because -I care so little for it. Though to be sure there is something galling -to a man in being shot at from behind a hedge and set on in the dark; -in not knowing where the murderer may be lying in wait for him, at what -street corner, at what turn of the road, behind what hayrick. If I have -not kept my appointment over punctually to-night, it is because a rogue -has had me by the Park gateway in Piccadilly. There is more here than -mere accidental villainy. The next will be that I shall see murder in -my own servant’s eyes. Or, who knows, find it lying at the bottom of my -cup. Pah! I am as bold as most men; I would welcome death more readily -than most; but, by Heaven! it is unfair treatment, and I have had more -than my share of it.” - -“Why, Jennico,” said Carew, “you never spoke a word of this before. A -fellow has no right to keep such doings dark. Tell us the details.” - -“Ay, tell us all about it,” said Sir John, with round eyes ready to -start from their orbits. - -“True,” said Basil, “you have now an interest, Jack, in knowing what -sort of odds are against you. Well, you shall learn all you wish; but -let us to supper, gentlemen, meanwhile, that we may lose no further -time and start better fortified upon the evening’s business, if Beddoes -is still anxious for his revenge.” - - - - -CHAPTER V - -NARRATIVE OF AN EPISODE AT WHITE’S CONTINUED - - -IT was over a dish of devilled kidneys and a couple of bottles of -Burgundy that—pressed by the eager curiosity of his English friends, -no less than by the interest M. de Ville-Rouge continued to profess -in his concerns with all Teutonic earnestness—Basil Jennico began to -narrate his misadventures in the same tone of ironical resentment with -which he had already alluded to them. - -“It began at Farringdon Dane,” he said, “on the little property in -Suffolk which my mother has placed at my disposal. ’Twas some six weeks -gone, walking through the wood at sundown, I was shot at from behind a -tree. The charge passed within an inch of my face, to embed itself in a -sapling behind me. I was, according to my wont—an evil habit—deeply -absorbed in thought, and was alone; consequently, although I searched -the copse from end to end, I could find no trace of my well-wisher. -That was number one. I gave very little heed to the occurrence at -first, believing it to be some poacher’s trick, or maybe the unwitting -act of what you call in your country, Chevalier, a Sunday sportsman, -who mistook my brown beaver for the hide of a nobler quarry. But the -next attempt gave me more serious food for reflection. This time I -was shot at while sitting reading in my study at night, when all the -household had retired. It was close weather, and I had drawn the -curtains and opened the windows. The bullet again whizzed by my ear, -and this time shattered the lamp beside me. No doubt the total darkness -which ensued saved me from a second and better aim.” - -“You are a fortunate young man,” said the Chevalier gravely. - -“Do you think so, Chevalier?” answered Jennico, with a smile which all -the bitterness of his thoughts could not altogether rob of sweetness. -“I do not think any one need envy my fate. Well, gentlemen, you can -conceive the uproar which ensued upon the event I have just described. -The best efforts of myself, my servants, and my dogs failed, however, -to track the fugitive, although the marks of what seemed a very neat -pair of shoes were imprinted on my mother’s most choice flowerbeds. -After this adventure I received a couple more of such tokens of -good-will in the country. Once I was shot at crossing a ford in full -daylight, and my poor nag was struck; this time I did catch a glimpse -of the scoundrel, but he was mounted too, and poor Bess, though she -did her utmost, fell dead after the first twenty strides in pursuit. -Thereupon my mother grew so morbidly nervous, and the mystery resisting -all our attempts at elucidation, I gave way to her entreaties and -returned to London, where she deemed I would find myself in greater -safety.” - -“And has your friend followed you up here?” exclaimed Sir John, -forgetting his supper in his interest. “By George, this is a good -story!” - -“I was stopped on the road by a highwayman,” answered Mr. Jennico -quietly. “Nothing unusual in that, you will say; but there was -something a little out of the common nevertheless in the fact that he -fired his pistol at me without the formality of bidding me stand and -deliver; which formality, I believe, is according to the etiquette of -the road. I am glad to tell you that I think we left our mark on the -gentleman this time, for as he rode away he bent over his saddle, we -thought, like one who will not ride very far. But, faith! the brood is -not extirpated, and the worthy folk who display such an interest in me, -finding hot lead so unsuccessful, have now taken to cold steel.” - -Sir John Beddoes damned his immortal soul with great fervour. - -“Pray, sir,” remarked Mr. Carew with an insinuating smile, “may not the -identity of the murderer be of easier solution than you deem? Are there -no heirs to your money?” - -“I might pretend to misunderstand you, Mr. Carew,” said Basil, -flushing, “although your meaning is plain. Permit me to say, however, -that I fail to find a point to the jest.” - -“‘Twas hardly likely you would find humour in a point so inconveniently -aimed against yourself,” answered Carew airily. “But ’tis a rarity, -Jennico, to find a man ready to take up the cudgels for his heirs and -successors. Nevertheless, I crave your pardon, the more so because I am -fain to know what befell you to-night.” - -“To-night was an ill night to choose for so evil an attempt,” said -the Chevalier, rousing himself from a fit of musing and looking -reflectively round upon the fog, which hung ever closer even in the -warm and well-lit room. - -“It was the very night for their purpose, my dear Chevalier,” returned -the young man with artificial gaiety. “Faith, it was like to have -succeeded with them, and I make sure mine enemy, whoever he may be, -is pluming himself even now upon the world well rid of my cumbersome -existence. I was on foot, too, and what with the darkness and emptiness -of the streets I was, I may say, delivered into their hands. But they -are sad bunglers. One of my pretty fellows in Moravia would have done -such a job for me, were I in the way to require it, as cleanly and with -as little ado as you pick your first pheasant in October, Jack. And yet -it may be that I am providentially preserved—preserved for a better -fate.” Here he tossed off his glass as if to a silent toast. - -“But why on foot, my dear Jennico? On foot—fie, fie, and in this -weather! What could you expect?” cried Carew with a shiver of horror. - -“If you were not so fond of interruption, Mr. Carew,” said the -Chevalier with a sinister smile, “perhaps we might sooner get to the -end of Mr. Jennico’s story. We are all eagerness to hear about this -last miraculous preservation.” - -“I hardly know myself how I come to be alive! I could get no sedan, -my dear Carew, and that was just the rub. What with Lady Bedford’s -card-party and the fog, there was not one to be had within a mile, and -I had given my stablemen a holiday. I sent my servant upon the quest -for a chair, but got tired of waiting, mindful of my appointment with -my friend and neighbour here, and so it was that I set forth, as I -said, on foot and alone. The mist was none so thick but that I could -find my way, and I was pursuing it at a round pace when, opposite -Devonshire House, some fellow bearing a link crossed from over the -road, came straight upon me without a word, raised his torch, and -peered intently into my face. I halted, but before I could demand the -meaning of his insolence down went his fire-brand fizzing into the -mud, out came his sword, and I was struck with such extreme violence -that, in the very attempt to recover my balance, I fell backwards all -my length upon the pavement, skewered like a chicken, and carrying -the skewer with me. Some gentlemen happened to reach the spot at that -moment, there was a cry for the watch, but the rogue had made good use -of his heels and the fog, and was out of sight and hearing in a moment.” - -“Verdammt villain!” cried M. de Ville-Rouge, whose brow had grown ever -blacker during this account. “Say, my amiable friend, did you not get -even a lunge at him?” - -“Lunge, man! I was skewered, I tell you; I could not even draw! His -sword—’twas as sharp as a razor, a fine sword, I have had it brought -to my chambers—had gone clean through innumerable folds of cloak -and cape, back and front, only to graze my ribs after all. It was -bent double by the fall, and it took the strength of the watchman and -the two gentlemen to draw it out again. By George! they thought I was -spitted beyond hope.” - -“A foul affair altogether,” murmured Carew absently; but the sorry jest -was lost in the strident tones of the Chevalier, who now anxiously -plied Basil as to the surgeon’s opinion of the wound, and expressed -himself relieved beyond measure by the reply. - -At this juncture Sir John Beddoes, who had drunk enough to inflame his -gambler’s ardour to boisterous pitch, began to clamour for his promised -revenge, and the whole party once more adjourned to the card-room. - -In his heart, Basil Jennico would have been genuinely glad to be -unsuccessful at the hazard that night; partly from a good-natured -dislike to be the cause of the foolish young man’s complete ruin, -partly from a more personal feeling of superstition. But the luck ran -as persistently in his favour as ever. - -Carew, with drawn tablets, began loudly to back the winner, challenging -all his acquaintance to wager against him. But although the high play -and Sir John’s increasing excitement and restlessness, as well as the -extraordinary good fortune which cleaved to Jennico, soon attracted -a circle of watchers, men were chary of courting what seemed certain -loss, and Carew found his easy gains not likely further to accrue. - -Suddenly the Chevalier, who, with his cheek resting upon his hand, -had seemed plunged in deep reflection ever since they had left the -supper-room, rose, and with an air of geniality which sat awkwardly -enough upon him, cried out to the surprise of all—for he had not been -wont to back any player in the club: - -“And there is really no one to side with my good friend Beddoes -to-night? Why then, Mr. Carew, I will be the man. Thunder-weather, -Beddoes,” clapping him on the shoulder—“I believe the luck will turn -yet; so brave a heart must needs force fortune! What shall it be, Mr. -Carew? Something substantial to encourage our friend.” - -Jennico looked down at the pile of vouchers which lay at his elbow. It -amounted already to a terrible sum. Then he looked across at the boy’s -face, drawn, almost haggard in spite of its youth and chubbiness, and -sighed impatiently. He could not advise the fool to go home to bed; -yet for himself he was heartily sick of these winnings. The dice were -thrown again, Sir John’s hand trembling like a leaf; and again Basil -won, and again vouchers were added to the heap. - -M. de Ville-Rouge threw a dark glance at the winner as he stepped up to -Carew to settle his own debt. - -“You should not have backed me,” said Sir John ruefully, lifting his -eyes from the contemplation of the paper that meant for him another -step towards ruin. “The devil’s in it; I will play no more to-night!” - -“Nay, then,” cried the Chevalier, “by your leave I will take your -place. I for one am no such believer in the continuance of Mr. -Jennico’s good luck.” - -There was something harsh, almost offensive, in the tone of the last -words, and Basil turned in surprise towards the speaker. - -“The Chevalier,” he said, “is very ready to risk his gold against me -to-night.” - -“‘Tis so, sir,” returned the Chevalier, with such singular arrogance -that the watchers looked at each other significantly, and Carew -whispered to a young man behind his chair, “Faith, our foreign friend -is a bad loser after all!” - -Basil had flushed, but he made no reply, and contented himself with -raising his eyebrows somewhat contemptuously, while he languidly pushed -his own dice-box across the table towards his new opponent. - -“Come,” said the Chevalier, seizing it and shaking it fiercely, “I will -not mince the stake. A hundred guineas on the main.” - -He threw, and the result of all his rattling being after all the lowest -cast of the evening, there was an ill-suppressed titter round the -table. Basil made no attempt to hide his smile as he lazily turned over -his dice and threw just one higher. - -The German’s face had grown suffused with dark angry crimson; the veins -of his throat and his temples began to swell. - -“Double or quits,” he cried huskily. He threw and lost; doubled his -stake, threw and lost again. - -There was something about the scene that aroused the audience to more -potent interest than the ordinary nightly repeated spectacle of loss -and gain. - -The extraordinary passion displayed by the foreigner, not only in his -inflamed countenance, but in the very motion of his hands, in the rigid -tension of his whole body, presented a strange contrast to the languor -of his opponent. It was, moreover, a revelation in one who had been -known hitherto as courteous and composed to formality. - -“It is to be hoped some one has a lancet,” said Carew, “for I believe -the gentleman will have an apoplexy unless a little blood be let soon.” - -“I fear me,” answered his companion, “that there will be more blood let -than you think for. Did you mark that look?” - -At the same instant the Chevalier flung down his box with such -violence that the dice, rebounding, flew about the room, and gazed -across at Basil with open hatred, as one glad to give vent at last to -long-pent-up fury. - -“By Heaven, Mr. Jennico!” he cried, “were it not that I have been told -how well you have qualified for this success, I should think there was -more in such marvellous throwing of dice than met the eye. But your -love affairs, I hear,—and I should have borne it in mind,—have been -so disastrous, so more than usually disastrous,” here his voice broke -into a sort of snarl, “as to afford sufficient explanation for the -marvel.” - -There was a cold silence. Then Jennico rose, white as death. - -“If you know so much about me, sir,” he said in tones that for all -the anger that vibrated in them fell harmoniously upon the ear after -the Chevalier’s savage outburst, “you should know too that there -is a subject upon which I never allow any one to touch. Your first -insinuation I pass over with the contempt it deserves, but as regards -your observation on what you are pleased to call my love affairs, I can -only consider it as an intentional insult. And this is my answer.” - -The German in his turn had sprung to his feet, but Basil Jennico leant -across the table, and before he could guard himself struck him lightly -but deliberately across the mouth. - - - - -PART III - - - - -CHAPTER I - -MEMOIR OF CAPTAIN BASIL JENNICO (RESUMED IN THE SPRING OF THE YEAR 1773) - - - IN MY CASTLE OF TOLLENDHAL, _March, 1773_. - -IT is the will of one whose wishes are law to me that I should proceed -with these pages, begun under such stress of mental trouble, until I -bring the tangled story of Basil Jennico’s marriage to its singular -settlement. - -Without, as I now write, all over the land, the ice-bound brooks are -melting, and our fields and roads are deep in impassable mud. The whole -air is full of the breath of spring, as grateful to the nostrils as it -is stirring to the blood of man, to the sap of trees. - -But it is ill getting about, for all that the springtime is so -sweet—as sweet and as capricious as a woman wooed—and thus there is -time for this occupation of scribe; yet it is a curious task for one -bred to so vastly different a trade; neither, God knows, do I find time -heavy on my hands just now! Nevertheless, I must even end this preface -as I have begun it, and say that I am fain to do as I am bidden. - -The last line I traced upon these sheets (I am filled with a good deal -of wonder at, and no little admiration of myself, when I view what a -goodly mass I have already blackened) was penned at one of the darkest -moments of that dark year. - -M. de Schreckendorf—little messenger of such ill omen—had but just -departed, and in the month that followed his visit the courage had -failed me to resume my melancholy record, though truly I had things -to relate that a man might consider like to form a more than usually -thrilling chapter of autobiography. - -Towards the beginning of September, I, still a dweller upon my mother’s -little property—most peaceful haunt, it would seem, in the heart of -our peaceful land—began to find myself the object of a series of -murderous attacks—these, so repeated and inveterate, that it was -evident that they were dictated by the most deliberate purpose, and -the more alarming, perhaps, that I could give then no guess from what -quarter they proceeded. - -Suspicion fell on a poaching gang, on a dishonest groom, on a -discharged bailiff. At length, seeing my mother like to fall ill of the -anxiety, I consented to return to London, although the country life -and the wholesome excitement of sport had afforded me a relief from my -restlessness which existence in the town was far from providing. - -No sooner, however, was I fully installed in my London chambers, than -the persecution began afresh. I had fallen into an idle habit of going -night after night to White’s, there to bet and gamble with my modish -acquaintances. ’Twas not that the dice had any special attraction for -me, but that my nights were so long. - -On my way thither one mid-October foggy evening, my life was once more -attempted, and this time with a deliberation and ferocity which might -well have proved successful at last. - -As it was, however, I again providentially escaped, and was able to -proceed to the club, where I had an appointment with a poor youth—our -Norfolk neighbour, Sir John Beddoes—who had already lost a great deal -of money to me, and would not be content until he had lost a great deal -more: I had the most insupportable good luck. - -I little knew that I should find awaiting me there the greatest danger -I had yet to run; that the head which had directed all these blows in -the dark was, de guerre lasse, preparing to attack me in the open, and -push its malice to a certain climax. A foreign gentleman—one Chevalier -de Ville-Rouge, as I knew him then—had sedulously sought first my -acquaintance, and thereupon my company, for some weeks past. And though -I had not found him very entertaining—I was not in the mood to be -entertained by any one—I had no reason to deny him either the one or -the other. - -But this night, after first addressing me with looks and tones which -began to strike me as unwarrantable, he sat a round of hazard with me, -for the sole and determined purpose, as I even then saw, of grossly -insulting me. As a reply, I struck him across the face, for, however -transparent was the trap laid for me, the provocation before witnesses -was of a kind I could not pass over. And, ’fore Heaven, I believe I was -in my heart glad of the diversion! - -The meeting was fixed for the next morning. Neither of us would consent -to delay, and indeed the German’s whole demeanour, once he had given -a loose rein to his fury, was more that of a wild beast thirsting for -blood than of a being endowed with reason. - -Both Sir John Beddoes and Mr. Carew, who had formed our party, -indignant at the coarseness of the foreigner’s behaviour, volunteered -on the spot to be my seconds, and Carew, who has a subtle knowledge of -the etiquette of honour, arranged the details of our meeting. It was to -take place in Chelsea Gardens half an hour after sunrise. The weapons -chosen by M. de Ville-Rouge were swords, for although the quarrel had -been of his own seeking, my blow had given him the right of choice. - -It was two o’clock before I found myself again alone in my rooms that -night, my friends having conducted me home, and seeming somewhat loath -to retire. I was longing for a couple of hours’ solitude before the -dawn of the day which might be my last. I felt that my career had -reached its turning-point, that this was an event otherwise serious -than any of the quarrels in which I had been hitherto embroiled, and -that the conduct of affairs was not in my hands. - -Carew was anxious about me—he had never yet seen a duellist of my -kidney, I believe—and my very quietness puzzled him. - -“Make that nutcracker attendant of yours prepare you a hot drink, man,” -cried he, as at last, with honest Beddoes, he withdrew, “and get to -bed. Nothing will steady your hand like a spell of sleep.” - -But there was no sleep for me. Besides that the pain of the slight -wound which I had received in the night’s guet-apens was stiffening to -great soreness, there was an excitement in my brain—partially due to -the fever incident on the hurt—which would not permit the thought of -rest. - -I had but little business to transact. In view of the present -uncertainty of my life, I had recently drawn up a will in which, after -certain fitting legacies, I left my great fortune to my wife. Now I -merely gathered together the whole of this accumulated narrative of -mine into a weighty packet, and after addressing it, deposited it in -János’s hands with the strict injunction, in the event of my demise, to -deliver it personally to Ottilie. - -No farewell message would be so eloquent as these pages in which I had -laid bare the innermost thoughts of my soul since I first knew her. She -should receive no other message from me. I next tore up poor Beddoes’s -litter of I O U’s, and making a parcel of the fragments directed it to -him. János received my instructions with his usual taciturn docility, -yet if anything could have roused me from the curious state of apathy -in which I found myself, it would have been the sight of the dumb -concern on the faithful fellow’s countenance. - -Having thus put all my worldly affairs in order, I sat me down in -my armchair, awaiting the dawn, and viewed the past as one who has -done with life. I had a strong presentiment upon me that I should not -survive the meeting. - -At times, the vision of my wife sleeping, at that very moment, as I -had so often watched her sleep, lightly and easily as a child, little -wotting, little caring, perhaps, if she had wotted, of her husband’s -solemn vigil, would rise up before me with a vividness so cruel as -well-nigh to rouse me. But the new calmness of my soul defied these -assaults; an unknown philosophy had succeeded to the violence of my -emotions. - -When my seconds called for me in the first greyness of the morning -they found me ready for them. They themselves were shivering from the -raw cold, with arms thrust to the elbows into the depths of their -muffs; Carew, all yellow and shrivelled,—an old man of a sudden,—and -Beddoes, blue and purple, the sleep still in his swollen eyes, hardly -able to keep his teeth from chattering—a very schoolboy! They could -scarce conceal their amazement at my placidity. It was not, indeed, -that I found myself bodily fit for the contest, for the whole of my -left side was stiff, and I could hardly move that arm without pain; yet -placid I was, I scarcely now know why. - -Thus we set forth in Sir John Beddoes’s coach, János on the box, and -a civil, shy young man on the back seat beside Beddoes: this was, the -latter informed me, the best surgeon he had been able to secure at such -short notice. - -The fog disappeared, and when the mists evaporated it promised to be a -fine, bright, frosty morning. - -Now, it may be after all that I was a little light-headed with the heat -of the wound in my blood, for I have no very clear recollections of -that morning. It remains in my mind rather as a bright-coloured fantasy -than a series of events I have actually lived through. - -I remember, as a man may remember a scene in a play, a garden running -down to the river-side, very bare and desolate, and the figure and -face of my bulky antagonist as he conferred excitedly with two -outlandish-looking men, his seconds. These had fierce moustaches, and -reminded me vaguely of the cravat captains I had known in the Empire. -Then the scene shifts: we stand facing each other. I am glad of the -chill of the air, with nothing between it and my fevered breast but the -thinness of my shirt. But my opponent stamps like a menacing bull, as -if furious at the benumbing blasts. Now I am fighting—fighting for my -life—as never in battle or in single combat have I had need to fight -before. This is no courteous duel between gentlemen, no honourable -meeting, but the struggle of a man with his murderer. Physically at a -disadvantage from my hurt, I am moreover conscious that against this -brute fury all my skill at arms is of no avail and my strength is -rapidly failing. Then, as he drives me by the sheer weight of his mass, -I see his face thrust forward into mine, distorted with such a frenzy -that I wonder in a sort of unformed way why this man should thus thirst -to kill me. The next moment, with an extraordinary sense of universal -failure and disorganisation which is yet not pain, I realise that I am -hit—badly hit. - -Upon that instant I find my brain cleared to a lucidity I have never -felt before. I see my opponent’s sword flash ruby red with my own blood -in the sun rays; I see him smile, a smile of glorious triumph, which -cuts a deep dimple beside his lip; I hear him pant at me the strange -words, “Ha! Ottilie!” and then I am again seared, rent once more, and -to the sound of a howl of many voices my world falls into chaos and -exists no more. - - * * * * * - -It is sometimes but a short and easy way up to the gates of death, but -a long and weary journey back to life. It was a long and weary journey -to me. - -I was like to a man who travels in the dead of night over rough ways, -and now and again slumbers uneasily with troubled dreams, and now -looks out upon a glimmer of light in some house or village, and now on -nothing but the pitchy darkness; and yet he is always travelling on -and on till he is weary with madness of fatigue. And then, as the dawn -breaks upon the wanderer, and he sees a strange land around him, so the -dawn of what seemed a new existence began to break for me, and I looked -upon life anew with wondering eyes. - -At first I looked as the traveller may, with eyes so tired and drowsy -as scarce to care to notice. But in yet a little while I warmed and -quickened to the sun of returning health. I began to be something more -than a mere tortured mass of humanity; each breath was no longer misery -to draw; the mind was able to re-assert authority over the flesh. That -dark, watchful figure that seemed to have been sitting at the foot of -my bed for centuries, that was János! Poor old fellow! I could not -yet speak to him, but I could smile. My next thought was amaze that -I should be in a strange room; it had a very teasing tapestry; its -figures had worried me long before I could notice them. In a little -while I began to understand that I was not in my own chambers, and to -feel such irritation at the liberty which had been taken with me that I -should have demanded instant explanation had my strength been equal to -the task. - -But I come of too vigorous stock, the blood that runs in my veins is -too sweet—because I have not, like so many young fools of my day, -poisoned it with endless potations and dissoluteness—for me, when once -on the broad high road to recovery (to continue my travelling simile), -to dally over the ground. - -Moreover I was too well nursed. János, it seems, after the first couple -of visits, in each of which I was wisely bled of the diminished store -the Chevalier’s sword had left in my veins—János had had a great -quarrel with the surgeon, vowing he would not see his master’s murder -completed before his eyes and never a chance of hanging the murderer. - -It had ended in the old soldier taking the law into his own hands, -dismissing the man of medicine, and treating me after his own lights. -He had had a fairly good apprenticeship, having attended my uncle -through all his campaigns. As far as I am concerned I am convinced that -in this, as well as in another matter which I am about to relate, he -saved my life. - -The other matter has reference to the very change of quarters which -had excited my ire, the true explanation of which, however, I did not -receive until I was strong enough to entertain visitors. János would -give me little or no satisfaction. - -“I thought in myself it would be more wholesome for your honour -than your other house,” was the utmost I could extract. Indeed, he -strenuously discouraged all conversation. But the day when this -stern guardian first consented to admit Carew and Beddoes to my -presence,—and that was not till I could sit up in bed and converse -freely,—all that I had been curious about was made clear to me. - -Carew, indeed, had the virtue of being an excellent gossip. I had at -one time deemed it his only quality, but I learned better then. Both -the gentlemen, each in his own fashion, displayed a certain emotion at -seeing me again, in which pleasure at the fact of my being still in -the land of the living, and likely to remain so, was qualified by the -painful impression produced by my altered appearance. - -Sir John, the boy, sat himself down on the edge of my bed and squeezed -my hand in silence, with something like tears in his eyes. Carew, the -roué, was very deliberate in his choice of a chair, took snuff with a -vast deal of elegant gesture, and fired off, with it might be an excess -of merriment, such jocularities as he had gathered ready against the -occasion. Both of them seemed to deem it incumbent upon them to avoid -any reference to the duel. I, however, very promptly brought up the -subject. - -“Now, for God’s sake,” I said, “let a poor man who has been kept -like a child with a cross nurse—take your pap, go to sleep, ask no -questions—learn at last a little about himself. In the first place, -where am I? In the second, what has become of the red devil who brought -me to this pass?” - -“In the first place, Jennico,” said Carew, “you are at the house -of Lady Beddoes, mother to our friend here, a very pleasing little -residence situate on Richmond Hill. Secondly, that red devil, as you -call him, that most damnable villain, has fled the country, as well he -might, for if ever a knave deserved stringing up as high as Haman—but -of that anon. There is a good deal to tell you if you think you can -bear the excitement. - -“Well,” he pursued, upon my somewhat pettish asseveration, “I myself -think a little pleasant conversation will do you more good than harm. -To begin with, you are doubtless not aware that you are a dead man.” - -“How?” cried I, a little startled, for my nerve was yet none of the -strongest. - -“Nay, nay, dash you, Carew,” interposed Sir John, “don’t ye make those -jokes. Gruesome, I call ’em: it makes me creep! No, Basil, lad, thou -art alive, and wilt live to set that Chevalier, whoever he may be, -swinging for it yet.” And here in his eager partisanship he broke into -a volley of execrations which would have run my poor great-uncle’s -performances pretty close. - -“Why,” said I impatiently, “‘tis enigma to me still why I am here; why -I am dead; why the Chevalier should hang. I think you have all sworn to -drive me mad among you.” - -I was so evidently exasperated that Beddoes, all of a tremble, besought -Carew to explain the situation. - -“He’ll do himself a mischief,” he cried pathetically; “do you tell him, -Carew,—you know what a fool I am!” - -Carew was nothing loath to set about what was indeed the chief pleasure -of his life, the retailing of scandal; and it seems that the Jennico -duel was a very pretty scandal indeed. - -“I will take your last question first,” said he, settling himself to -his task with gusto. “Why the Chevalier should hang? Who he really is, -where he comes from, why he hates you with such deadly hatred, Jennico, -are all mysteries which I confess myself unable to fathom—doubtless -you can furnish us with the clue by-and-by.” - -As he spoke his pale eye kindled with a most devouring curiosity. -Nevertheless as I showed no desire to interrupt him by any little -confidence, he proceeded glibly: - -“But why the Chevalier should hang is another matter. Gadzooks, I’d run -him down myself were it but for his impudence in getting gentlemen like -myself to come and see foul play. Why, Jennico, man, don’t you know -that after charging you like a bull, and running you once through the -body, the scoundrel stabbed you again as you were sinking down and the -sword had dropped from your hand. I doubt me he would have spitted you -a third time to make quite sure, had not Beddoes and I fallen upon him.” - -“I’d have run him through,” here interposed Sir John excitedly; “I had -drawn for it, had I not, Dick?—and I’d have run him through, but that -the surgeon called out that you were dead; and dash me, between the -turn I got and the way those queer seconds of his hustled him away, -I lost the chance! And the three of them ran, they ran like rats, to -the river. Gad, I’d have left my mark on them even then, but Carew, be -hanged to him, held on by my coat-tails.” - -“‘Tis just as Jack told you,” said Carew. “No sooner had they heard you -were dead, my friend, than they ran for it, and it is quite true that I -restrained Jack here from sticking them in the back as they skedaddled. -A pretty affair of honour, indeed!” - -I lay back on my pillows awhile, musing. I had had time to reflect on -many things these days, and—God knows—there were enigmas enough in my -life to give me food for reflection. What I had just heard caused me no -surprise, tallying as it did with conclusions I had previously reached. - -After a moment Carew cleared his throat, edged his chair a foot nearer, -and queried confidentially: “Did it never strike you that the Chevalier -must have been part and parcel, if not the moving spirit, of those -attacks upon your life which you told us of that night at the club? You -did not appear to have a notion of it then. Yet there was not a man of -us there who did not see but the quarrel was deliberately got up.” - -“And d’ye mind,” cried Sir John, “how he bet me you would not live a -month?” - -“Ay,” said Carew, “and Jennico knows best himself if in his gay youth, -in foreign parts, he has not given good cause for this mortal enmity, -though to be sure the mystery thickens when we remember how friendly -you were with each other. Jennico is such a close dog; he keeps such a -dashed tight counsel!” - -I smiled. Jennico would keep his counsel still. I meant these good -fellows should expound my riddles for me, not I theirs. - -“But since I am dead,” said I, “I fear, Jack, thou hast lost on me -again.” - -“The gentleman did not leave his address,” said Sir John with a grin; -and he furtively squeezed my hand to express his secret sense of the -little transaction of the I O U’s. - -“We made some clamour at the Embassy, I promise you,” interposed Carew; -“we were anxious to pay him all his due, you may be sure. But devil a -bit of satisfaction could we get, save indeed that the Ambassador took -to his bed with a fit of gout, and you being dead, Jennico,—you are -dead still, remember,—to bury you was the best thing your friends -could do for you, till you were able to take fit measures to protect -yourself. And indeed it was that queer old Tartar of yours, your János, -or whatever you call him, who loudly insisted upon your demise, when we -found the first alarm was unfounded and that you still breathed. Gad, I -believe you have as many lives as a cat! This fellow then says to us in -his queer jargon: ’My master lives, but he must all the same be thought -dead.’ And faith he besought us with such urgency, that, what with -seeing you lying there, and knowing what we knew of the foul play that -had been practised upon you, we were ready enough to fall in with his -desires. Sir John bethought him of his mother’s house at Richmond, and -offered to accompany you there,—or rather your body: you were little -less just then. Next the surgeon swore the journey would kill you, and -your servant swore you should not be harboured in the town. The fellow -knew you: ’Good breed,’ he said, ’not easily killed!’ And so he won -the day, and Miles the surgeon gave in; but indeed he told me apart, -’twas waste of time disputing, for anyhow you could not see the noon. -But here you are at my Lady Beddoes’s house at Richmond, alive and like -to live, though you have ceased to exist for most men. There was a -charming, really a most touching, obituary notice in the Gazettes; you -have been duly lamented at the clubs—and forgotten within the usual -nine days. Rumours will soon begin to get about of course, but nobody -knows anything positive. The secret is still kept. János, I believe, -has contrived to assuage the anxiety of your relatives.” - -Here the speaker took so copious a pinch to refresh himself after his -long speech that he set me off sneezing, whereupon my special Cerberus -promptly made his appearance and bundled the visitors forth without -more ado. - - * * * * * - -I have said that my friend’s belief in the Chevalier’s implication in -the divers murderous onsets that had been made upon me, previous to his -own, did not surprise me. The memory of M. de Ville-Rouge’s cry, as he -dealt me what he believed my death stroke,—a cry in which it would -be hard to say whether savage triumph or sheer vindictiveness most -predominated,—had come back on me, as soon as I could think at all, -with most revealing force. - -His arrival in England had coincided with the beginning of the -persecution. The look on his face as I had last seen it, that smile and -that dimple, had haunted me during long hours of delirium with a most -maddening, grotesque, and horrible likeness to the face of her I had -so loved. Coupling these things in later sanity of mind with the other -evidence, I could not doubt but that here had been some relative of -Ottilie, who had interest to put an end to her husband’s existence. Had -not her pock-marked Mercury at the close of our interview uttered words -of earnest warning? ay, I minded them now: - -“The matter will not end here.... Have a care, young man....” - -As I thought of all this, as the whole meaning of what had seemed so -mysterious now lay clear before me, I would be seized with a sort of -deadly anguish, compared to which all my previous sufferings, whether -of body or mind, had been but trivial. Could she, could Ottilie, have -_known_ of this work? Could she—have _inspired_ it? - -The sweat that would break out upon me at such a thought was more -than all my fever had wrung from my body, and my faithful leech would -wonder to find me faint and reeking, and would puzzle his poor brains -in vain upon the cause, and decoct me new teas of dreadful compounds, -febrifuges which he vowed had never failed. - -But then at other times the vision of my wife would rise before me and -shame me. I would see again her noble brow, her clear eye, her arched -and innocent lip, and in my weakness and the passion of my longing I -would turn and weep upon my pillow to think that, having to my sorrow -lost her, I should come now to lose even my faith in her, and yet -should love her still with such mad love. - -Now there must be, as János would have it, something remarkably tough -in the breed of Jennico for me to recover from such wounds both bodily -and mental. Recover I did, however, in spite of all odds; and a resolve -I made with returning strength did a good deal to ease my mind, tossed -between such torturing fluctuations. - -This resolve was no less than to leave the country some fine morning, -in secret, so soon as I could undertake the journey with any likelihood -of being able to persevere in it, to speed to Budissin, and discover -for myself the real attitude of Ottilie towards me. I was determined -that, according as I found her,—either what my heart would still deem -her, or yet so base a thing as the fiend whispered,—that I would try -to win her back, were I to die in the attempt, or thrust her from my -life for ever. - -Thus when I heard that my enemy and the world believed me dead, when I -realised that she too must probably share in the delusion, I was glad, -for not only would it materially facilitate my re-entering the Duchy, -but it would afford me an excellent opportunity of judging her real -feelings. I had no doubt but that, if I set to work in a proper manner -and duly preserved my incognito, I should be able, now that all pretext -for quarantine had disappeared, to secure an interview without too much -difficulty. - -So all my desires hastening towards that goal, I set myself to become -a whole man again with so much energy that even János was surprised at -the rapidity of my progress. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -IT was towards the middle of December that we started upon the -journey—a little sooner indeed than my surgeon and mentor approved of, -but his power over me dwindled as my own strength returned. - -Being chiefly anxious to preserve my incognito, I hesitated some time -before permitting János to accompany me, his personal appearance -unfortunately being of a kind unlikely to be forgotten when once seen. -But, besides the fact that I could not find it in me to inflict such -pain upon that excellent fellow, there was an undoubted advantage to -myself in the presence of one upon whose fidelity and courage I could -so absolutely reckon in an expedition likely to prove of extreme -difficulty and perhaps of peril. Moreover, the man would have followed -me in spite of me. I insisted, however, upon his shaving off his great -pandour moustaches—a process which though it altered did not improve -his appearance; his aspect, indeed, being now so fantastically ugly as -to drive me, despite my preoccupation, into inextinguishable paroxysms -of laughter every time I unexpectedly got a glimpse of his visage, -until habit wore away the impression. - -As to myself, my long illness had, as I thought, sufficiently changed -me. Besides, the news of my resurrection was too recently and too -vaguely rumoured in London to have reached, or to be likely to reach, -the Continent for many a long day. - -Under the humble style, therefore, of a Munich gentleman returning -from his travels,—one Theodor Desberger, with his attendant (now -dubbed Johann), a character which my Austrian-German fitly enabled me -to sustain,—I set sail from London to Hamburg, and after a favourable -sea-passage, which did much to invigorate me, we landed in the free -city and proceeded towards Budissin by easy stages; for, despite -the ardour of my impatience, I felt the importance of husbanding my -newly-acquired strength. At Budissin we put up of course at a different -hostelry from that chosen upon our first venture—one much farther away -from the palace. - -The little town presented now a very different aspect. Indeed, its -gay and cheery bustle, and the crisp frosty weather which greeted -us there, might have raised inspiriting thoughts. But it was with a -heart very full of anxiety, with the determination rather to face ill -fortune bravely than the hope of good, that I passed the night. I got -but little sleep, for, having reached my goal, I scarcely knew how to -begin. Nor in the morning had I arrived at any definite conclusion. - -The risk of presenting myself in person at the palace after my former -fashion was too great to be entertained for a moment. I had therefore -to content myself with despatching János to make cautious inquiries -as to one Fräulein Pahlen and her relatives, not forgetting a bulky -gentleman he knew of, recently returned from England. - -I myself, in my plainest suit, and with my cloak disposed as a muffler, -partly concealing my face, set forth upon my side to gather what crumbs -of information I might. - -At the very outset I had a most singular meeting. Traversing the little -town in the brisk morning air under a dome of palest blue, I naturally -directed my steps towards the castle, seated on its terrace and -towering above the citizens’ brown roofs. - -I had taken a somewhat circuitous route to avoid passing in front of -the main guard, and found myself presently in a quiet street, one side -of which was bound by the castle garden walls, and the other—that -upon which I walked—by a row of private houses seemingly of some -importance. Now, as I walked, engaged in gazing upwards at the long -row of escutcheoned windows which I could just see above the wall, and -foolishly wondering through which of them my cruel little wife might be -wont to look forth into the outer world, I nearly collided with a woman -who was hurrying out of one of the houses. - -As I drew back to recover myself, and to apologise, something in the -dark figure struck me with poignant reminiscence. The next instant, as -she would have passed me, I caught her by the shoulder. - -“Anna!” I cried wildly, “God be thanked, Anna!” For upon this very -first morning of my quest Heaven had brought me face to face with no -less a person than Ottilie’s old nurse. - -The recognition on her side was almost simultaneous. No sooner had the -muffling cloak fallen from my mouth, than the dull and rather surly -countenance that she had turned upon me became convulsed by the most -extraordinary emotion. She gave a stifled cry. Then she clapped her -hands together, pressed them clasped against her cheek, and stared at -me with piercing intensity, crying again and again: - -“God in heaven—you! God in heaven—you!” The black eyes were as hard -to read as those of a shepherd’s dog, who fixes with the same earnest -look the master he loves or the enemy he suspects. And as we stood -thus, the space of a few seconds, my mind misgave me as to whether -I had not already jeopardised all my prospects by this impulsive -disclosure. It was evident that the woman had heard the story of my -death, which in this hostile place was my chief security. But the -die was cast, and the chance of information was too precious not -to be seized even at greater risks. I laid hold of her cloak, then -passionately grasped her hands. “Oh, Anna!” I cried again, and the bare -thought that I was once more so near the beloved of my heart brought in -my weakness the heat of tears to my eyes. “Where is she? Where is my -wife? What does she? Anna, I must see her. My life is in danger in this -place; they have tried to kill me because I love her, but I had rather -risk death again a thousand times than give her up. Take me to her, -Anna!” - -The woman had never ceased regarding me with the same enigmatic -earnestness; all at once her eyes lightened, she looked from side to -side with the cautiousness of some animal conscious of danger, then -wrenched her hands out of mine: - -“Follow me, sir,” she said in a whisper, so urgent in its apprehension -as to strike a colder chill into my veins than the wildest scream -could have done. Without another glance at me she started off in front, -and I as hastily followed, almost mechanically flinging my cloak once -more across my mouth as I moved on. - -Whither was she leading me? Into the hands of my enemies, whoever they -were?—she had always, I had thought, hated me—or into the arms of my -wife? - -She turned away from the palace, down a bye-street, and then took -another turn which brought us into a poor alley where the houses became -almost cottages, and where the gutters ran among the cobbles with -liquid filth. - -My wild hope gave place to sinister foreboding; and as I plodded -carefully after her unwavering figure, I loosened the hilt of my sword -in its scabbard, and settled the folds of my cloak around my left arm -so that at a pinch I might doff it and use it for defence. - -Suddenly my guide halted for a second, looked at me over her shoulder, -and disappeared down some steps into the open door of a mean little -shop. I entered after her, at once disappointed in all my expectations -and reassured by the humble vulgarity of the place. Anna, as I had ever -known her, was chary of speech. Even, as stooping I made my way into -the low, gloomy, and evil-smelling narrow room, I saw her imperiously -motion an ugly sallow young woman out of her presence; and, still in -silence, I watched her, wondering, as she made fast the doors and bent -her dark face to listen if all were still. Then she produced from a -counter, paper, ink, and pen, and spreading them out turned to me with -a single word: “Write.” - -So small was the result of all these preliminaries. - -“You mean,” said I, “that if I write to your mistress, you will convey -the letter? Alas! I have written before and she would not even receive -my writing. Oh! can you not get me speech of her? I conjure you by the -love you bear her, let me see her but for a few minutes.” - -The woman fixed me for a second with a startled wondering eye, opened -her mouth as if to speak, but immediately clapped her hand to it as if -to restrain the words. Then, with a passion of entreaty that it was -impossible to withstand, she pointed to the paper and cried once more, -“Write.” - -And so I seemed ever destined to communicate with my wife from strange -places and by strange messengers. - -With a trembling hand and a brain in a whirl I wrote—I hardly know -what: a wild, passionate, reproachful appeal, setting forth in -incoherent words all I had done and suffered, all my desire, all my -faithful love. When I looked up at length I found the black eyes still -watching me with the same inscrutable fierceness. I was going to trust -my life and its hopes to this woman, and for a moment I hesitated. -But at the same instant there was some noise without, and snatching -the letter unfinished from before me, she thrust it into her bosom, -folded her cloak across it, and stooping close to me demanded in her -breathless undertone: - -“Where do you live?” - -Mechanically I told her, adding: “Ask for M. Desberger.” - -She nodded with swift comprehension, unbolted the barred front door of -the little shop, and drew me hastily out by the back, along a close, -flagged passage, leaving an irate customer hammering and clamouring for -admittance. - -We proceeded through a small yard into another alley, and here she -halted a second, still detaining me by my cloak. - -“Go home,” she said then; “keep close. There is danger—danger. You -will hear.” - -She suddenly caught my hand, kissed it, and was gone. I stood awhile -bewildered, astonished, staring, hardly able to grasp the meaning -of what had passed, for this last scene in the drama of my life had -been acted hurriedly and was full of mysterious significance. Then, -unobtrusively, I sought the shelter of my own inn, resolving to obey -to the letter the injunctions laid upon me; but fate had willed it -otherwise. - -Determined not to interfere with the course of fortune by any least -indocility, I retired into the seclusion of my chambers, and pretexting -a slight indisposition, to rouse no undue suspicion by an air of -mystery, gave orders for my dinner to be served there. - -A stout red-cheeked wench with rough bare arms had just, grinning, -clattered the first greasy dish before me, when I heard János’s foot -upon the stairs. I had learnt to know the sound of his step pretty well -in my recent weeks of sickness, but I had not been wont to hear it come -so laggingly, and the fact that it halted altogether outside the door -for a second or two, as if its owner hesitated to enter, filled me with -such a furious impatience that I got up and flung it open to wrest his -news from him. Not even when he had held up my poor great-uncle in his -arms to let him draw his last breath on earth, had I seen the fellow -wear a countenance of such discomposure. - -“In Heaven’s name, János,” cried I, and the sturdy house-wench turned -and stared at him more agoggle and agrin than before. - -“Get out of that, you ——” cried my servitor, snapping at her with -such sourness, and so forgetful of the decorum he usually displayed in -my presence, that it was clear he was mightily moved. - -She fled as if some savage old watch-dog had nipped at her heel, and we -were alone. - -I had returned from my own exploration full of hope, and at the same -time of wonder, so that I was at once ill and well prepared for any -tidings, however extraordinary. But János’s tidings seemed difficult of -telling. - -“Let us go home, honoured sir” he stammered again and again, surveying -me with a compassion and an anxiety he had not vouchsafed upon me at -the worst of my illness. I had to drag the words from him piecemeal, as -the torturer forces out the unwilling confession. - -Yes, he had news—bad news. This was no place for me. It was not -wholesome for us here. Let us return to Tollendhal, or Vienna, or even -England. Let us start before further mischief overtook us. - -I believe I fell upon him at last and shook him. What had he heard. -What had he heard of her? I vowed he was driving me mad, vowed that -if he did not instantly tell me all I would throw caution to the wind -and go to the palace and demand my wife in person, were it of the Duke -himself. This threat extorted at length the terrible thing that even -the rough old soldier feared to utter. - -“The lady,” he stammered, “the lady can no longer be spoken of as your -honour’s wife. She is married.” - -“Married!” I cried. “What do you mean, you scoundrel? No longer my -wife! Married! You are raving—this is stark lunacy.” - -He shook his grey head under the shower of my fury. - -“Married. Does your honour forget that they think here that they have -at last succeeded in killing you?” - -I looked at him aghast, unwilling to admit the awful illumination that -flashed upon my mind. He, believing me still incredulous, proceeded: - -“Married she is. Fräulein Pahlen, the lady-in-waiting,—Fräulein -Pahlen, as your honour bade me call her, and as it seems she called -herself until ...” and then with a significant emphasis, “until six -weeks ago.” - -“And who is the man?” said I. The words sounded in my ears as if some -one else had spoken, but I believe I was astoundingly calm. - -Misled no doubt by this appearance of composure, János seemed to take -more confidence, and continued in easier tones, while I held myself -still to listen. - -“It is the Court physician, one privy counsellor Lothner. I was shown -his house, a big one in the Schloss Graben, number ten, opposite the -palace walls. Ay, yes, they were married six weeks ago, and the Duke -was present at the marriage ... and the Princess too! They say it was -made up by their wishes. Oh! honoured sir, let us hence. You are well -quit of it all; this is a bad place!” - -Yet I stood without moving. Chasm after chasm, horror after horror, -seemed to be opening before my mind; chasms so black that I scarce -ventured to look into their depths; horrors so unspeakable that I could -put no word-shape to them. After Ottilie’s messenger had failed to -induce me to give up my rights, had come the attempts upon my life, -then the duel. The mysterious stranger who had sought to slay me with -such rancorous hate, and had called “_Ottilie_” into my dying ears, had -returned to claim his bride, and they had wedded in their blood-guilt. -Well might the nurse cry and repeat the cry of “God in heaven! God in -heaven!” - -What new ambush would they now contrive? - -“Your honour——” said János, and he put his hand respectfully upon my -sleeve. I caught sight of his frightened face and burst into a fit of -rasping laughter. - -“Look at your master, János, and see the greatest fool in Christendom! -The fool of the play, that is tricked and mocked and beaten from one -act to another. Tricked into marrying a serving-maid instead of a -princess; tricked into loving her when he should have repudiated her -with scorn; abandoned by her when he could no longer live without her; -mocked when he sought his wife; driven away by lackeys; stabbed by a -murdering hound, a skulking thief in the night!... But the last act is -only about to begin—every one has had his laugh at the fool, but we -shall see, János, we shall see! He laughs best who laughs last, they -say. Ten, Schloss Graben, did you say?” - -I caught my cloak. I think the faithful fellow actually laid hands upon -me to arrest me, but I broke from him as if his clasp had been a straw. - -“I’ll drive my sword,” I remember saying, “into the first man who -dares come between me and my purpose.” - -And indeed as I fled along the street, scarce knowing what way I took, -yet going as straight as a die to my goal, I had no other thought but -how clean I would run my blade through the clumsy lumbering brute who -deemed he had so well widowed my wife. I had the strength of ten men in -me. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -WHEN I reached the Schloss Graben I stood a moment to reconnoitre, and -found myself in the same still, cobble-paved road where I had met Anna -a few hours before. On my left rose the high garden-walls overtopped -by a web of bare interlacing branches, and over that again the palace -windows and its mansard roof; on my right the row of silent brown or -red stone houses, well-to-do and snugly private, with beaten iron bars -to the low windows and great scallop shells over the doors. This was -the house down the stone steps of which my wife’s servant had come -this morning, and this was number ten. Of course! How clear it was all -becoming to me! I dashed the sweat from my brow, for I had come like -a lamplighter. Then I tramped up the three steps and again halted a -second. How quiet the house was! - -But I should soon put some bustle into it, I said to myself, and -smiled. I plied the knocker till the sleeping echoes awoke, and I hung -on the iron rope of the bell till the shrill protest of the jingling -peal rang out into the street. There came other sounds from within as -of a flutter in a dovecot. Doors were opened and shut precipitately. -A window was thrown back above my head; there was a vision of a -white-capped face thrust forward and withdrawn; and, indeed, like -rabbits from a warren, most, I believe, of the idle servants in the -street were popping out to see whence could proceed such unholy -clangour. - -The door before me was at length cautiously and slowly opened, and -through the aperture the frightened, rose-red face of a maid looked out -at me. - -I saw that I had been incautious, and therefore addressed her with a -suave mock courtesy. Indeed, now that the actual moment had come I felt -stealing over me a very deadly calm. - -“Forgive me,” said I, “my wench, for disturbing you thus rudely. I see -I have alarmed you. These are, however, but old soldiers’ ways, which -I trust your good mistress will pardon to an old friend. Your mistress -is, if I mistake not, now the doctor’s lady. But when I knew her she -was Fräulein Ottilie Pahlen.” - -The girl’s mouth had, during this long speech, which in my new mood -came glibly enough to my lips, become broadened into a grin. There are -very few girls in the Empire, I have been told, that will not feel -mollified towards a soldier. - -“Is your mistress within?” I pursued. - -She dropped a curtsey, and after a comprehensive glance over my person -threw open the door. Would the gentleman walk in? She brought me -through a brick-paved hall into a long low oak-panelled room, all dark -and yet all shining with polish. It was very hot from a high china -stove. - -“What visitor shall I announce to the gracious lady?” she asked, -sidling towards me, and thrusting her apple face as forward as she -dared. - -“I am so old a friend, in fact, I may say so near a connection, that I -should like to give your gracious lady a pleasant surprise,” said I; “I -will not therefore give my name.” As a propitiatory after-thought, I -pinched the hard red cheek and dropped a coin into her apron pocket. I -tried to make my smile very sweet, but it felt stiff upon my lips. She, -however, saw nought amiss, and pattered out well content. - -Then followed a few minutes’ waiting; all had grown still again around -me. Through the deep recessed windows I looked forth into a little -courtyard with one bare tree. This, then, was the home Ottilie had -chosen instead of an English estate, instead of Tollendhal, instead of -all I could offer her in courtly Vienna or great London! How she must -love this man! Or was it only the plebeian instinct reasserting itself -in spite of all?... The Court doctor’s lady! - -I heard a footfall on the bare-boarded stair, and with a smile that was -this time the natural expression of the complicated bitterness of my -soul, I moved a few steps so as to place myself in the best light. - -My wife was, perhaps, still in ignorance of my escape from death. -Anna had not yet carried her grievous news of the failure of their -endeavours. Indeed, this was evident from the general placidity of the -household, as well as the staid regularity of the approaching steps. To -witness her joy at the discovery was sufficient revenge for the moment. -After that the reckoning would be with—well, with my successor. - -Such was the state of my thoughts at the crucial moment of my strange -story. - -I have said that I was calm, but during the little pause that took -place between the cessation of the footsteps and the turning of the -lock I could hear the beating of my own heart like the measured roar of -a drum in battle. - -Then was the door opened, and before me stood—-not Ottilie, who had -been my Ottilie, but the other Ottilie, the Princess! She was advancing -upon me with the old well-remembered gracious smile, when all at once -she halted with much the same terror-stricken look with which Anna -earlier in the day had recognised me, and clasped her hands, crying: - -“God be merciful to us, M. de Jennico!” and seemed the next instant -ready to burst into tears. - -In the first confusion of my thoughts, in the rage created by this -eternal _quid pro quo_—that I should ever find the lady-in-waiting -when I wanted the Princess, and the Princess when I wanted the -lady-in-waiting,—I might have been inclined to think that Anna had -after all spread her tidings, and that my wife’s former mistress -had come to her aid at this awkward moment; but the surprise and -consternation on this woman’s countenance were too genuine to have been -counterfeit. - -Whatever reason brought the Princess here I was in no humour to inquire. - -“I came to see my wife, Madam,” said I, “and not to presume upon your -Highness’s condescension. I am determined to see my wife,” I insisted; -“that Ottilie Pahlen, who was your maid of honour, and lived with me -as my wife for a month, as your Highness well knows, and who was in -such haste to wed this Court doctor of yours at the first rumour of her -husband’s death.” - -I spoke in a very uncourtier-like rage. But she whom I addressed -showed neither anger nor astonishment, but sank into the nearest -chair, a mere heap of soft distressed womanhood, wringing her plump -dimpled hands, while tears of extraordinary size suffused her eyes and -overflowed upon her cheeks. - -At sight of this my heat fell away; I threw myself on my knees beside -her, and, all forgetful of the distance between us, took one of her -hands in mine and poured forth an appeal. - -“You were always kind to me; be kind now. I must see my wife. I have -been cruelly treated; I am surrounded with enemies; be you my friend!” - -She leant forward and looked at me earnestly with swimming eyes. - -“Is it possible,” she exclaimed—“is it possible, M. de Jennico, that -you have not found out yet?... that you do not suspect?...” - -Even as she spoke, and while I knelt looking up at her, the scales fell -from my eyes. I needed no further word. I knew. How was it possible, -indeed, that I should not have known before? I saw as in a flash that -this comely burgher woman was not, had never been, never could have -been, the Princess. I saw that the hand I still unconsciously held -bore marks of household toil, that on the third finger glittered a new -wedding ring. Then a thousand memories rushed into my mind, a thousand -confirmatory details. Oh, blind—blind—blind that I had been—fool, -and worse than fool! The mystery of my wife’s mocking smile; the secret -that had so often hung unspoken on her lips; her careless pretty ways; -the depth of her injured pride; and then the manner in which she -had been guarded from me, the force employed against me, the secret -diplomatic attempts to free her, followed, on their failure, by the -relentless determination to do away with me altogether! Before my -reeling brain it all rose into towering conviction—a joy, a sorrow, -both too keen for humanity to bear, seized upon my weakened frame. I -heard as if in the far distance the words the woman near me was saying: - -“It all began by a freak of her Highness, ...” and with the echo of -them whirling as it were in a mad dance through my brain to the sound -of thundering cataracts, a whirlpool of flame spreading before my eyes, -I fell with a crash, as it seemed, into a yawning black abyss. - -When I again came to myself the cold air was blowing in upon me through -the open casement, and I was stretched full length on a hard floor, in -what seemed a perfect deluge of the very strongest vinegar I have ever -smelt. At one side of me knelt my hostess, her healthy face blanched -almost beyond recognition. On the other, between my wandering gaze -and the window, swam the visage of the maid, eyes and mouth as round -as horror could make them, but with cheeks the ruddiness of which, it -seemed, no emotion could mitigate. - -Both my kind attendants gave a cry as I opened my eyes. - -“He is recovering, Trude,” said Madam Lothner (to call her now by her -proper name). - -“Ah! gracious lady,” answered the wench in an unctuous tone of -importance; “his face is still as red as the beet I was pickling when I -heard you scream—would God the master were here to bleed him. Shall I -send into the town to seek him?” - -“God forbid!” cried her mistress, in a hasty and peremptory tone. “No, -I tell you, Trude, he is recovering, and I have not been a doctor’s -wife these six weeks for nothing. The flush is fading even as I look at -him. See thee here, fetch me some of the cordial water.” - -I do not know how far her six weeks’ association with the medical -luminary, her husband, had profited Madam Lothner. I have since been -told that her administration of cordial, immediately upon such a blood -stroke to the head as mine, ought really to have finished me off. But -as it happened it did me a vast deal of good, and I was soon able to -shake off the giddiness, the sickness, and the general confusion of my -system. - -With recovered wits it gradually became apparent to me that while Madam -Lothner continued to ply me with every assistance she could think -of, regarding me with eyes in which shone most kindly and womanly -benevolence, her chief anxiety nevertheless was to get rid of me with -all possible despatch. - -But I was not likely to give up such an opportunity. The chaos in my -mind consequent upon the unexpected revelation, and its disastrous -physical effect, was such as to render me no very coherent inquisitor. -Nevertheless, the determination to learn all that this woman could tell -me about my wife rose predominant above the seething of my thoughts. - -Ottilie, my wife, was Ottilie the Princess after all! I had felt the -truth before it had been told me. But whilst they removed an agonising -supposition, these struck me nevertheless as strange unhomely tidings -which opened fresh difficulties in my path—difficulties the full -import of which were every second more strongly borne upon me. Ottilie -the Princess!... Everything was changed, and the relentless attitude -of the Princess bore a very different aspect to the mere resentment of -the injured wife. When my letters had been flung back in my face, when -I had been kidnapped and expelled the country, it had been then by her -orders. She had sent to demand the divorce. Who had set the bravo on -my track? By whose wish had my life been so basely, so persistently, -attempted? By hers—Ottilie, the Princess? A Princess who had repented -of her freak, whose pride, whose reputation, had suffered from the -stigma of an unequal match. - -The man whose sword had twice passed through my body had called out, -“Ha! Ottilie!” Who dare call on a Princess thus save her kinsman -or—her lover? - -I felt the blood surge through me again, but this time in my anger it -brought a sense of courage and strength. I interrupted Madam Lothner -as, with a joyful exclamation that I was now quite restored, she was -about to issue an order for the summary fetching of a hired coach. - -“Let your maid go,” said I authoritatively, “but not for a coach. I -have yet much to say to you.” - -I was without pity for the distress this demand occasioned, deaf to the -hurried whisper: - -“For pity’s sake, go now that you can. You are in danger here. Think of -yourself, if you will not think of me!” - -“I can think of but one person,” said I harshly. “I have come a -thousand miles to learn things which I know you can tell me, and here -I remain until I have heard them. Any delay on your side will only -prolong the danger, since danger there be.” - -She looked up in tearful pleading, met my obstinate gaze, and instantly -submitted—a woman born to be ruled. - -“Go, Trude,” she said faintly, “and warn me if you see your master -coming. What will she think of me?” sighed the poor lady as the door -closed upon an awe-struck but evidently suspicious Trude. “But no -matter, better that just now than the truth. Now, sir, for God’s sake, -what is it you would have of me?” - -“Let me go back,” said I, “to the beginning. When I married ... my -wife at Tollendhal, she was then, for a freak as you say, acting the -lady-in-waiting, while you assumed her rôle of Princess?” - -“It is so,” said Madam Lothner, “but I never knew till the deed was -accomplished to what length her Highness had chosen to push her folly. -I could not then attempt to interfere or advise, still less could I be -the person to send tidings to the Court.” - -“So?” said I, as she paused. - -“So,” said she, “in great fear and trembling, I deemed it best to -obey her Highness’s strict command, and await events at the Castle of -Schreckendorf, still in my assumed part.” - -“But when my wife returned to you,” I said, and my voice shook, -“returned to you in a peasant’s cart,—oh, I know all about it, Madam, -I know that I drove her forth through the most insensate pride that -ever lost soul its paradise,—when she returned, the truth must have -already been known?” - -“Ach, yes,” murmured the sentimental Saxon, her eyes watering with very -sympathy at the sight of my bitter self-reproach. “Yes, it was because -of rumours which had already reached the residence (from your friends -in England, I believe), that his Serene Highness the Duke sent in -such haste to recall us. He would not come himself for fear of giving -weight to the scandal. But it was her Highness who chose to confirm the -report.” - -“How?” cried I eagerly. - -“Why, sir,” answered the doctor’s lady, flowing on not unwillingly in -her soft guttural, though visibly perturbed nevertheless, and now and -again anxiously alive to any sound without—“why, sir, her Highness -having returned to Schreckendorf before the arrival of the ladies -and gentlemen from Lausitz, and being, it seemed, determined”—here -she hesitated and glanced at me timidly—“determined not to return -to Tollendhal ever again, her Highness might easily, had she wished, -have denied the whole story. And indeed,” continued the speaker with a -shrewdness I would not have given her credit for, “had she so behaved -it would have best pleased her relations. But she was not so made.” - -“Ah, no indeed,” said I, “her pride would not stoop to that.” - -“You are right,” said Madam Lothner, with a sigh, “she is very proud. -She was calm and seemed to have quite made up her mind. ’I will give no -explanation to any one,’ she said to me, ’and I recognise in no one the -right to question me. But my father shall know that I am married, and -that I am separated from my husband for ever. I am not the first woman -of my rank on whom such a fate has fallen.’ That was her attitude.” - -And here the good creature broke forth as if in spite of herself with -passionate expostulation. - -“Ah, M. de Jennico, but she suffered! Oh, if you would atone, leave -her now, leave her at least in peace! You have brought enough sorrow -already into her life. Ach! I do not know how it has been between you; -but now that she thinks you dead, for God’s sake let it be!” - -“By Heaven, Madam,” cried I, half mad, I believe, between pain, -remorse, and fury, “these are strange counsels! Do you forget that -we are man and wife, and this by her own doing? But truly I need not -be surprised, for you do not hesitate before crime at the Court of -Lausitz, and if murder be so lightly condoned, sure it is that bigamy -must seem a very peccadillo.” - -Madam Lothner stared at me with startled eyes and dropping jaw. - -“Murder,” she whispered, “M. de Jennico! what terrible thing do you -say?” - -Then she put her hand to her head, ejaculating: “True, it was the -Margrave himself who brought us news of your death on his return from -England. It was in the English papers. I feared I know not what, but -this—this—God save us!” - -I looked at her in fresh bewilderment. She was as one seized by -overwhelming terror. I felt that her emotion had its origin in causes -still unknown to me. - -“And who is the Margrave?” I cried quickly. - -She lowered her voice to the barest breath of sound, and glanced -fearfully over her shoulder as if afraid of eavesdroppers even in this -retired room. - -“Prince Eugen, as they call him,” she said, “one of her Highness’s -cousins. He has, I do not quite know how, hopes of sovereignty in -Poland, and they were to have been married: it was her father’s wish, -and it is so still.” - -I sprang up with an imprecation, but the lady almost flung herself upon -me, and clapped her hand over my mouth. - -“In the name of God,” she said, “be still, or you will ruin us! My -husband is his most devoted adherent. In this house he rules, and we -bow to the earth before him.” - -I sank back into my seat, docile, in spite of myself, impressed by the -strength of her fear. New trains of revelations crowded upon me. Eugen -of Liegnitz-Rothenburg—Rothenburg—Ville-Rouge—I saw it all! - -She went on, bringing her mouth close to my ear: - -“The Princess hated him, and indeed he has grown into a strange and -terrifying man, so oddly impulsive, cruel, wilful, vindictive. He -always professed to love the Princess, but I cannot but think that -it was the love of taming—he would dearly love to break her, just -as he loves to break the proudest-spirited horse. His grey eye makes -me grow cold. As I said, from a child she hated him, and it was for -that—having seen one whom she thought she could love....” Here she -paused, and glanced at me, and hesitated. - -It was for that. I remembered. She had told me of the unhappy fate that -threatened “the Princess” that evening when we met under the fir-trees -to decide upon my crazy match, and when, as I had deemed, she had -fooled me to the top of my bent. She had spoken in tones of scathing -contempt and hatred of some cavalier. And now? Suddenly gripped by the -old devil of doubt and jealousy, I cried out, “And now, after all, the -fate of being wedded to an obscure gentleman seems to her more dreadful -than that of sharing her place with her cousin, and the peculiar -qualities of the hated relative have been very usefully employed in -ridding her of the inconvenient husband? Oh, Madam, of course you -know your Court of Lausitz, and I think I begin to see your drift: -you think, in your amiability, that it would be preferable to see -your mistress bigamously united, than that she should legitimise her -position by yet another and more successful attempt at assassination.” - -“I fail to understand you, sir,” drawing back from me, nevertheless, -with a glance of mistrust and indignation. - -“I will be plain,” said I: “when the Princess, who is my wife, left -me,—I will own I bear some blame, but then I had been strangely -played with,—she had doubtless already begun to repent what you call -her freak. When I followed her and implored her forgiveness,—you -yourself know all about it, Madam, for you must have acted under -her orders,—she flung back my letters, through your agency, with a -contemptuous denial of any knowledge of such a person as M. de Jennico. -When I wrote to her, her whom I believed to bear your name, a pleading, -abject letter, for I was still but a poor loving fool, her only answer -was to have me seized and driven from the country like a criminal. -Later on, when I refused to be a party to her petition for divorce, -she thought, no doubt, she had given me chances enough, and this time -she deputed the noble bully, her cousin, to manage the matter in his -own fashion. My life was attempted five times, Madam. And when it all -failed,—your Prince Eugen, you tell me, he was in England, and there -was a certain great bulky Chevalier de Ville-Rouge, who particularly -sought my acquaintance—’tis he, is it not?—your Prince Eugen honoured -me by seeking a duello, and by running his august sword through my -common body, and that more often, be it said, than custom sanctions in -honourable encounters. I was given for dead. No wonder! It seems to be -the sport of hell to keep me alive. I can scarce think it is the will -of Heaven.” - -Madam Lothner had followed my tirade with what appeared the most -conflicting sentiments: blank astonishment, horror, indignation. It was -the last, however, that predominated. Her countenance became suffused -with crimson; her blue eyes flashed a fire I had not deemed them -capable of harbouring; she forgot the precautions she herself had so -strenuously enjoined. - -“And do you dare, sir,” cried she, “accuse my mistress of these -things—you, whom she loved? You knew her as your wife for four weeks, -and yet you know her so little as to believe her plotting your death! -Those letters, sir, you speak of, she never received, nor did I, nor -did she nor I ever hear of your presence in this land. ’Tis true -that after you had left,—for _you_ left her first, remember,—after -well-nigh a year without tidings of you, she did herself send to you -to request the annulment of the marriage. It was _to free you_ because -she believed you repented of it, and she felt she had entrapped you -into it. And when, sir, you refused, she had hope again in her heart, -for she loved you. And she suffered persecution on your account, and -was kept and watched like a state prisoner—she that had always lived -for the free air, and for her own way. They were cruel to her, and -put dreadful pressure upon her that she should make her appeal alone -to the Pope. But she held firm, and bore it all in silence, and lived -surrounded by spies, her old friends and old servants banished from her -sight, until the news came that you were dead. Then ... ah, then, she -mourned as never a woman mourned yet for her first and only love! As -to marriage—what dreadful things have you been saying? Her Highness -will never marry again. She will be faithful as long as she lives to -you, whom she believes dead. And God forbid it should be otherwise, -for Prince Eugen would wed her from no love, I believe, but solely to -punish her for resisting him so long, to break her to his will at last, -and triumph over her. Oh, no, she would never wed again! You must -believe me, for I have been with her through it all, and though she -would mock me and laugh at me once, she turned to me afterwards as to -her only friend——Get up, M. de Jennico, get up! Ach Gott! what a coil -this is! My good sir, get up; think if the doctor were to come in! Ach -Gott! what is that you say? Nay, I have been a fool, and this is the -worst of all. My poor friend, there is no room for happiness here!” - -For I had fallen at her feet again, and was covering her hand with -kisses, blessing her with tears, I believe, for the happiness of this -moment. - -She ended, good soul, by weeping with me, or rather, over the pity of -the joy that was doomed, as she thought, to such brief duration. - -“Oh, you are mad, you are mad!” she said, as I poured forth I know -not what extravagant plans. Ottilie loved me, cried I in the depths -of my exultant soul: what could be difficult now? “You are mad! Have -you not yet learned your lesson? Do you not understand that they will -never, _never_ let you have her? Go back to your home, sir, and if you -love her never let her know you are still alive, for if they heard it -here, God knows what she would be put to bear; and if she knew they had -tried to murder you, it would kill her. I tell you, sir, a Court is a -dreadful place, and Prince Eugen, you know what he is, and his Serene -Highness himself, he is hard as the stones of the street. You have seen -what they have done—no law can reach them! They will not fail again. -And if a second scandal——” she paused, hesitated, shuddered, then -bending over to me she whispered, half inarticulately, “if a second -scandal came to pass, who knows what forfeit she might not have to pay!” - -But I rose, clasped her two hands, and looked into her eyes with all -the bold joy that filled my heart. - -“My kind friend,” I said, “you cannot frighten me now. Keep you but our -secret, and you will yet see your mistress happy.” I wrung her hands, -and hurried to the door, as eager now to be gone as I had been to -enter. I must act, and act at once, and there was much to do. - -She followed me, lamenting and entreating, to the steps, where stood -faithful Trude, with garments blown about in the cold wind. But, as I -turned to take a last farewell, my hostess caught me by the sleeve. - -“Keep close,” she said, “keep close; and if you are hurt, if you are -ill——” she hesitated a second, then leaned forward and breathed into -my ear, “do not send for the Court doctor.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -I RUSHED out into the street, treading as if on air, my cloak floating -behind me, my head thrown back, all warnings unheeded in the first -overpowering tide of this joy which had come upon me at the darkest -hour of all. - -I had told myself that I must act, and act at once. But till I had had -a moment’s breathing time to realise the extraordinary revelations by -which the whole face of the past and of the future was changed to me, I -could form no coherent thought, much less could I form plans. - -I wanted space for this—space and solitude. And so I hurried along as -I have described, looking neither to the right nor to the left, when I -was seized upon from behind, and by no means gentle hands brought me -first to a standstill, and next threw the folds of my cloak around me -in such a fashion as once more to cover my face. - -“Are you mad?” said János, with a fiercer display of anger than I had -ever known him show to me, though he had marshalled me pretty rigidly -through my illness. “I have been following you these five minutes, -and all the town stares at your honour. ’Tis lucky you took a side -turning just now or you would have been straight into the great place, -perhaps into the main guard. If you want to look for death, you can go -to the wars like my old master, but ’tis an ill thing to find it in the -assassin’s blade, as I thought you had learned by now. Do you forget,” -continued János, scolding more vehemently, “that they are all leagued -against you in this country? Do you forget how they packed you out of -the land last year, and warned you never to return? ’Tis very well to -risk one’s life, but ’tis ill to throw it away.” - -“Oh, János, true soul,” said I, as soon as I could get air to speak -with, for his grasp upon the folds of my cloak was like an iron clamp, -“all is changed, all is explained. You saw me last the most miserable -of men: you see me now the happiest!” - -We had paused in a deserted alley leading into the gardens on the -ramparts. As I looked round I saw that the sky had grown darkly -overcast, and by János’s pinched face, as well as by the bowing and -bending of the trees, that the wind had risen strong and cold. To me it -might have been the softest breeze of spring. I drew the man over to a -bench all frosted already by tiny flakes which fell persistently, yet -sparsely, and there I told him my tale of joy. He listened, blinking -and grinning. At length when it was duly borne in upon him that the -wife I was seeking was really and actually the Princess of the land, he -clasped his hands and cried with a certain savage enthusiasm: - -“Oh, that my old master had lived to see the day!” But the next instant -the bristling difficulties of the situation began to oppress his aged -heart. He pondered with a falling face. - -“Then your honour is in even greater danger than I had thought,” said -he, “and every second he passes in this town of cut-throats adds to the -risk.” - -“Even so,” said I, clapping him on the shoulders, my spirits rising -higher, it seemed, with every fresh attempt to depress them,—“Even so, -my good fellow; and therefore since my wife I mean to have, and since I -mean to live to be happy with her, what say you to our carrying her off -this very night?” - -He made no outcry: he knew the breed (he himself had said it) too well. -As you may see a dog watch his master’s signal to dash after the prey, -wagging his tail faintly the while, so the fellow turned and fixed me. - -“And how will your honour do it?” said he without a protest. - -“How?” said I, and laughed aloud; “by my soul I know not! I know -nothing yet, but we will home to the inn and deliberate. There is -nought so difficult but love will find the way, and Romeos will scale -walls to reach their Juliets so long as this old world lasts.” - -I rose as I spoke, and so did János, shaking the snow from his bent -shoulders. - -“I know nothing of the gentlemen your honour speaks of, nor of the -ladies, but my old master, your honour’s uncle, did things in his -days.... God forgive me that I should remember them against a holy -soul in heaven! There was a time when he kept a whole siege (it was -before Reichenberg in ’59)—a whole siege waiting, ordered a cessation -of fire for a night, that he might visit some lady in the town. He was -the general of the besieging army, and he could order as he pleased. -By Saint Stephen, he got into the town somehow ... and I with him ... -and next morning we got out again! No one knew where we had been but -himself, and myself, and herself—he, he!—and before midday we had -that town.” - -“Fie, fie, János,” said I, “these are sad tales of a field-marshal; let -us hope my good aunt never heard them.” - -“Her Excellency,” said János, and crossed himself, “would have gloried -in the deed. But, your honour, we have the heavens against us to-night; -I have not seen a sky look blacker, even in England, since the great -storm at Tollendhal.... Ah, your honour remembers when.” - -“All the better,” said I, as we turned the corner; “a stormy night is -the best of nights for a bold deed.” - -And I thought within myself: “I lost her in the storm; in the storm -shall I find her again.” Thus does a glad heart frame his own omen. - -It was all very fine to talk of carrying off my wife in such fashion; -but when, seated together near the fire in my room, talking in whispers -so that not even the great stove door could catch the meaning of our -conclave, János and I discussed our plans, we found that everything -fell before the insuperable difficulty of our ignorance of the -topography of the palace. There seemed nothing for it but to endeavour -to interview Anna once more, dangerous as the process might be. And we -were already discussing in what character János should present himself, -when Fortune—that jade that had long turned so cold a shoulder upon -me—came to the rescue in the person of the good woman herself. There -was a hard knock at the door, which made us both, conspirators as we -were, jump apart, and I involuntarily felt for the pistol in my coat -skirts, whilst János stalked to open. - -And there stood the lank black figure which had once seemed to cast a -sort of shadow on my young delight, but which now I greeted as that of -an angel of deliverance. She loved her mistress, her mistress loved -me—what could she do me then but good? - -I sprang forward and drew her in by both hands. She threw back the -folds of her hood and looked round upon us, and her grim anxious -countenance relaxed into something like a smile. Then she dropped me a -stiff curtsey, and coming close to my ear: - -“I gave my mistress the gracious master’s letter,” she said, and -paused. I seized upon her hand again. - -“Oh, Anna, dear Anna, how is she? How did she take it? Was she much -concerned? Was she ...” I hesitated, “was she glad to learn I am not -dead?” - -The woman’s eyes looked as if they would fain speak volumes, but her -taciturn tongue gave utterance to few words. - -“My mistress,” she said, “wept much, and thanked God.” That was all, -but I was satisfied. - -“She is in much fear for you,” the messenger went on after a pause. -“She bade me say she dared not write because of the danger to you; she -bade me say that the danger is greater than you know of; that your -enemies are other than you think. Now they believe you dead, but you -may be recognised. And you were out to-day again!” said Anna, suddenly -dropping the sing-song whisper of her recitation and turning upon me -sternly with uplifted finger. “Out, in spite of my warning! I know, for -I came to the inn to find you. All this is foolish.” - -“And this is the end of your message?” said I, who had been drinking -in every word my wife’s sweet lips had so sweetly spoken for me. “Was -there nothing else?” said I again, for my soul hungered for a further -sign of love. - -“There was one thing more,” said Anna in her stolid way: “she bade me -say she would contrive to see you somehow soon, but that as you love -her you must keep hidden.” - -I shut my eyes for a second to taste in the secret of my heart the -honeyed savour of that little phrase that meant so much: “_as you love -me!_” for there rang the unmistakable appeal of love to love! And I -smiled to think that she still reserved the telling of her secret. I -guessed it was because she was pleased that I should want her for -herself, and not for the vain pride that had been our undoing. - -And then, with my bold resolve a thousandfold strengthened, I caught -Anna by the arm. - -“Now listen,” said I, and stooped to bring my lips to her ear. “When -I went out this afternoon it was to good purpose. I have seen Frau -Lothner.... I know all.” - -“Lord God!” cried Anna, and snatched her hand from mine and threw her -arms to heaven, her long brown face overspread with pallor; “and she -has seen you, has recognised you—the Court doctor’s wife! Then God -help us all! If the secret is not out to-day it will be to-morrow. -Oh, my poor child, my poor child!” She rocked herself to and fro in a -paroxysm of indignant grief. - -“But,” said I, trying to soothe her that she might listen to my -plan, “Madam Lothner is an old friend of mine, she is devoted to the -Princess, she has a kind heart, she has promised me discretion.” - -“She!” said Anna, and paused to throw me a look of unutterable scorn. -“She, the sheep-head! in the hands of such an one as the Court doctor! -My lord, I give you but to midnight to escape! for as it happens—and -God is merciful that it happens so—the Margrave has sent for the -doctor at his camp of Liegnitz, and he will not return until after -supper.” - -“So be it,” said I gaily; “escape I shall, Anna, but not alone.” - -The woman’s sallow face grew paler yet. The depth of the love for the -child she had nursed at her breast gave her perspicacity. Her eye -sought mine with fearful anticipation. - -I drew her to the furthest end of the room and rapidly expounded my -project, which developed itself in my mind even as I spoke. Outside -the snow was falling fast. All good citizens were within doors; there -was as yet no suspicion of my presence in the town; the palace was -quiet and my bitterest enemy was absent; to delay would be to lose -our only chance. The passion of my arguments, none the less forcible, -perhaps, because of the stress of circumstances which kept my voice at -whisper pitch, bore down Anna’s protests, her peasant’s fears. I had, -I believe, a powerful auxiliary in the woman’s knowledge of all that -her beloved mistress might be made to suffer upon the discovery of my -reappearance. She felt the convincing truth of my statement, that if -the attempt was to be made at all it must be made this very night, and -she saw too that I said true when I told her I would only give up such -attempt with my life. - -Moreover (joy as yet hardly realised!) she knew that my wife’s -happiness lay in me alone; and so she agreed, with unexpected -heartiness, to every detail of my scheme. - -She was to meet me at the end of the palace garden lane before the -stroke of eight, two hours hence, and admit me through a side postern -into the garden itself. We were obliged to fix so early an hour to -avoid the necessity of running twice past sentries, who, it seemed, -were doubled around the palace after eight o’clock. The Princess’s -apartments were upon the first floor on the garden side, and from the -terrace below it was quite possible, it appeared, for an active man -to climb up to her balcony. I would bring a rope-ladder—János should -make it, for he had no doubt some knowledge of that scaling implement. -As soon as she had shown me the way, Anna was to endeavour to prepare -her mistress for my coming. János in his turn was to be waiting with -my carriage and post-horses as near the garden gate as he dared. The -Princess, the nurse told me, was wont to retire about nine, it might be -a little earlier or later, and liked then to be left in solitude, Anna -herself being the only person admitted to her chamber. - -Among the many risks there was one inevitable, the danger of being -discovered by my wife lurking on her balcony before Anna had had time -to carry her message: for it was impossible, the woman warned me, that -she should now see her mistress before the latter descended to meet -the Duke at supper. I was, however, gaily prepared to face this risk, -and even, foolhardy as it may seem, desired in my inmost soul that -there should be no intermediary on this occasion, and that my lips -only should woo her back to me; that this first meeting after our hard -parting should be sacred to ourselves alone. - -I reckoned besides upon the fact that since Ottilie knew I was in the -town, she would not be surprised at my boldness, however desperate; -that she would ascertain with her own eyes who it was who dared climb -so high, before she called for help. - -At length, when everything was clear,—and the woman showed after all a -wonderful mother wit,—Anna departed in the storm, and I and János were -left to our own plans and preparations. As for me, my heart had never -ridden so high; never for a second did I pause or hesitate. In a few -minutes we had devised half a dozen alternate schemes of flight, all -equally good—all equally precarious. - -“Will your honour leave it to me,” said the old campaigner at last, -as he sat beginning to plait and knot various lengths of our luggage -ropes into an escape ladder,—“the settlement of the inn account, the -post-horses, and the choice of the road?” - -With this I was content. - -The wind had abated a little, but the snow was still falling steadily -when I set forth at length. The streets were, as I expected, very -empty, and the few wayfarers whom I chanced to meet were so enveloped -and so plastered with white, the chief thought of every one was so -obviously how best to keep himself warm, how soonest to get within -shelter, that I hugged myself again upon my luck. There was a glow -within me which defied the elements. - -At the corner of the garden lane, at the appointed place, even as the -tower clock began the quarter chimes, I saw a woman’s figure rapidly -approaching the trysting spot from the opposite direction. I hesitated -for a moment, uncertain as to its identity, but it made straight for -me, and I saw it was Anna. As we turned into the lane itself she -suddenly whispered: - -“Put your arm round my waist,” and the next instant, from the very -midst of my amazement, I realised her meaning: we had to pass close by -a sentry-box. Woman’s wits are ever sharper than man’s. The sentry was -stamping to and fro, beating his breast with his disengaged hand, but -ceased his bear dance to stare at us, as we came within the light of -the postern lamp, and launched at the dim couple so lovingly embraced -some rude witticism in his peasant tongue, accompanied by a grunt of -good-natured laughter. My supposed sweetheart pulled her hood further -over her face, answered back tartly with a couple of words in the -country dialect; and, followed by an ironical blessing from the churl, -we were free to pursue our way unchallenged. - -This was the only obstacle we encountered; the lane was quite deserted. -We stopped before a little postern door half buried in ivy, which Anna, -producing a key from her pocket, unlocked after some difficulty. At -last it rolled back on its rusty hinges with what sounded in my ears -as an exultant creak. An ancient bird’s nest fell upon my head as we -passed through into the garden. Anna carefully pushed the door to once -more, but without locking it, and we hastened towards the distant -gleaming front of the palace, stumbling as we went, for the soft snow -concealed the irregularities of the path. Without hesitation, however, -my guide led me between two fantastically carved hedges of box and yew -till we came to a statue, rearing a blurred outline, ghostly white in -the faint snowlight. Here she stood still and pointing to the south -wing: - -“There,” she said, while all the blood in my body leaped, “there are my -mistress’s apartments; see you those three windows above the terrace? -The middle window with the balcony is that of her Highness’s bedroom. -You cannot mistake it. The ivy is as thick as a man’s arm, and you may -climb by it in safety. Now that I have done what you bade me I will go -to the palace. God see us through this mad night’s work!” - -With these words she left me. I ventured to the foot of the terrace -wall, and creeping alongside soon found the terrace steps, which I -ascended with a tread as noiseless as the fall of the thick snowflakes -all around me. I stood under her balcony. I groped for the ivy-stems, -and found them indeed as thick as cables. It was a plant of centenarian -growth, and it clasped the old palace walls with a hundred arms, as -close as welded iron: as strong and commodious a ladder as my purpose -required. I swung myself up (I tremble now to think how recklessly, -when one false step might have ended the life that had grown so dear), -and next I found myself upon the balcony—Ottilie’s balcony!—and -through the parted curtains could peer into her lighted room. - -Then for the first time I paused, hesitating to pry upon her retirement -like a thief in the night. For a moment I knelt upon the snow and cried -in my heart for pardon to her. Then, drawing cautiously aside from the -shaft of light, I looked in. It was a large lofty apartment with much -gilding, tarnished it seemed by time, and with faded paintings and -medallions on the walls. In an alcove curtained off I divined in the -shadow a great carved bed, whose gilt curves caught now and again a -gleam of ruby light from the open door of an immense rose china stove. -My eyes lingered tenderly over every detail of the sanctuary sacred to -my lady. Outside upon the balcony, all in the darkness, the cold, and -the snow, my whole being began to swim in a dreamy warmth of love. It -is like enough that had not something come to rouse me, I might have -been found next morning, stiff, frozen upon my perch, with a smile -upon my lips—a very sweet and easy death! But from this dangerous -dreaminess I was presently aroused to vivid watchfulness and energy. -My wandering gaze had been for a little while uncomprehendingly fixed -upon a shining wing of flowered satin stuff that trailed on one side of -a great armchair, the back of which was turned towards me. This wing -of brocade caught the full illumination of the candles on the wall and -showed hues of pink and green as dainty as the monthly roses in the -garden of my old home in England. Now as I gazed the roses began to -move as if a breeze had shaken them, and lo! the next moment, a little -hand as white as milk fluttered down like a dove upon them and drew -them out of sight. For a second my heart stood still, and then beat -against my breast like a frantic wild thing of the woods against the -bars of its cage. She was there, there already, my beloved! What kept -me from breaking in upon her, I cannot say—a sort of fear of looking -upon her face again in the midst of my great longing—or maybe my good -angel! Anyhow I paused, and pausing was saved. For in a second more -a door opposite to me opened, and an elderly lady, followed by two -servants carrying a table spread for a repast, entered the room. The -lady came towards the armchair and curtsied. I saw her lips move and -caught the murmur of her voice, and listened next in vain for the music -of those tones for which my ear had hungered so many days and nights. - -I saw the white hand cleave the air again as if with an impatient -gesture. The lady curtsied, the lackeys deposited the table near the -chair, and all three withdrew. - -I had trusted to fate to be kind to me this night, but I had not dared -expect from fate more than neutrality; and now it was clear that it was -taking sides for me, and that my wife had been strangely well inspired -to sup in her chamber alone, instead of in public with her father, as I -had been told was her wont. - -No sooner had the attendants retired than I beheld her light figure -spring up with the old bounding impetuosity I had loved and laughed -at, fling herself against the door, and I heard the snap of the key. -Now was my opportunity! And yet again I hesitated and watched. My face -was pressed against the glass in the full glare of the light, without -a thought of caution, forgetting that, were she to look up and see me, -the woman alone might well scream at the wild, eager face watching her -with burning eyes from out of the black night. But she did not look up. - -Wheeling round at the door itself as if she could not even wait to -get back to her chair, Ottilie—my Ottilie—drew from beneath the -lace folds that crossed upon her young bosom a folded letter, which I -recognized, by the coarse grey paper, as that which my own hand had -scored in the little provision shop a few hours ago. - -An extraordinary mixture of emotions seized upon my soul: a sort -of shame of myself again for spying upon her private life, and an -unutterable rapture. I could have knelt once more in the snow as before -a sacred shrine, and I could have broken down a fortress to get to her. -From the very strength of the conflict I was motionless, with all my -life still in my eyes. - -When she had finished reading she lifted her face for a moment, and -then for the first time I saw it. Oh, dear face, paled with many tears -and dark thoughts, but beautiful, beyond even my heated fancy, with a -new beauty, rarer and more exquisite than it is given me to describe! -The same, yet not the same! The wife I had left had been a wilful and -wayward child, a mocking sprite—the wife I here found again was a -gracious, a ripe and tender woman, upon whose lips and eyes sat the -seal of a noble, sorrowful endurance. - -She lifted the letter to her lips and kissed it, looked up again, -and then our eyes met! Then I hardly remember what I did. I was -unconscious of any deliberate thought; I only knew that there was my -wife, and that not another second should pass before I had her in my -arms. - -I suppose I must have hurled myself against the casement; the lock -yielded, and the window flew open. Enveloped in a whirl of floating -snow I leaped into the warm room. With dilated, fixed eyes, with parted -lips, she stood, terror-stricken, at first, yet erect and undaunted. -I had counted all along on her courage, and it did not fail me! But -before I had even time to speak, such a change came over her as is like -the first upspring of sunlight upon the colourless world of dawn. As -you may see a wave gather itself aloft to break upon the shore, so she -drew herself up and flung herself, melting into tears, body and soul, -as it were, upon my heart. And the next moment her lips sought mine. - -Never before had she so come to me—never before had life held for me -such a moment! Oh, my God! it was worth the suffering! - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -A KNOCK without aroused us. With a stifled cry of alarm, the woman -who had made no sound on the violent entry of an armed man upon her -unprotected solitude, now fell into deadly anguish. She sprang to the -door, and I could see the lace on her bosom flutter with the fear of -her heart as she bent her ear to listen. The knock was repeated. - -“Who is it?” cried Ottilie, in a strangled voice. “I had said I would -be alone.” - -“‘Tis I, child,” came the answer in the well-known deep note; “it is -Anna, alone.” - -I thrust my sword back into its scabbard; my wife drew a long breath of -relief, and glanced at me with her hand pressed to her heart. - -“Anna, thank God! We can admit her: Anna is safe,” she said, and turned -the key. - -Anna opened the door, stood an instant on the threshold, contemplating -us in silence; a faint smile hovered about her hard mouth. Then, -without wasting words on futile warnings, she made fast the lock, -deposited on the floor a dark lantern she had concealed under her -apron, walked to the window, which she closed as best she could, and -drew the curtains securely. Indeed, her precaution was not idle: -through the silence of the outside world of night, muffled by the snow, -but yet unmistakable, the tread of the first patrolling round now grew -even more distinctly upon our ear, passed under the terrace, emphasised -by an occasional click of steel, and died away round the corner. With -the vanishing sound melted the new anxiety which had clutched me, and -I blessed the falling snow which must have hidden again, as soon as -registered, the tell-tale traces of my footsteps below. - -Anna had listened with frowning brow; when all was still once more, -she turned to the Princess, and briefly, but in that softened voice I -remembered of old: - -“I have told your ladies that you had bidden me attend to you this -night, and that you must not be disturbed in the morning,” and then -turned to me: “All is ready, sir; we have till noon before being -discovered. And now, child,” she continued, as Ottilie, still closely -clinging to my side, looked up inquiringly, “no time to lose; there is -death in this for thy gracious lord, if not for us all as well.” - -“What does she mean?” asked Ottilie, and seemed brought from a far -sphere of bliss face to face with cold reality. “Oh, Basil, Basil, to -leave me again!” - -“Leave you! I will never leave you,” cried I, touched to the quick at -the change which had come upon the proud spirit of my beloved; “but if -you will not come with me, with your husband, if you fear the perils -of flight, the hardships of the road, or even,” said I, though it was -only to try her and taste once again the exquisite joy of loving, -humble words from her lips, “if you cannot make up your mind to give up -your high state here, to live as the wife of a simple gentleman, I am -content to die at your side. But leave you, never again! Ah! my God, -once was too much.” - -She looked at me for a second with tender reproach in her tear-dimmed -eyes and upon her trembling lips; then she answered with a simplicity -that rebuked my mock humility: - -“I am content to go with you, Basil, were it to the end of the world.” - -At this I could not, in spite of Anna’s presence, but take her to my -heart again, and the nurse, after watching us with a curious look of -mingled pleasure and jealousy in her hollow eyes, suddenly and somewhat -harshly bade us remember once more that time was short. - -“You,” she went on to her lady, peremptorily, as if conscious of being -herself the true mistress of the situation, “drink you of that broth -and break some bread, and drink of that wine, for you have not eaten -to-day. And you,” she added, turning to me, “make ready with your -ladder.” - -Impatiently and sternly she stood by us until we prepared to obey her -orders. - -We owe a very great debt of gratitude to this woman! - -My wife sat down like a child, watching me, sweet heart! over every -mouthful of soup as one who fears the vision may fade. As for me, -appreciating all the importance of immediate action, I threw from -me the perilous temptation of letting myself go to the delight of -the moment—a delight enhanced, perhaps, by the very knowledge of -environing danger. Opening my cloak, I unwound the length of rope from -my waist, cautiously slipped out again on the balcony and fastened one -end to the iron rail. Remembering the precious burden it was to bear, I -could not be satisfied without testing every knot, and finally trying -its strength with my own weight by descending to the terrace. It worked -satisfactorily, and the distance, fortunately, was not excessive. Then -leaving it dangling, in three leaps I was up again and once more in -the warm room, just in time to see an exquisite gleam of silk stocking -disappear into the depths of the fur boot which Anna was fastening with -all the dexterity of a nurse dressing a child. - -And, indeed, my sweet love submitted to be turned and bustled and -manipulated with an uncomplaining docility as if she was again back in -her babyhood—although in truth I have reason to believe, from what I -know of her and have heard since, that not even then had she ever been -remarkable for docility. - -Grimly smiling, Anna completed her labour by submerging the dainty head -in a deep hood; the sable-lined cloak and the muff she handed over to -me with the abrupt command: “Throw them out! Auswerfen!” Anna should -have been a grenadier sergeant; nevertheless, the thought was good, and -I promptly obeyed. Next she gave me the lantern—she had thought of -everything!—and commenced extinguishing the lights in the room. I took -Ottilie by the hand, the little warm hand, ungloved, that it might the -tighter feel the rope. - -“Will you trust yourself, love?” said I. She gave me no answer but a -shaft of one of her old fearless looks and yielded her waist to my -arm, and thus we stepped forth into the snow and the night. I guided -her to the rope and showed her where to hold, and where to place her -feet, and then, climbing over the balcony, supporting myself by the -projecting stones and the knotted ivy, I was able to guide the slender -body down each swinging rung: for when the blood is hot and the heart -on fire one can do things that would otherwise appear well-nigh -impossible. - -Safely we reached the ground. I enveloped her in the cloak which Anna’s -forethought had provided, and after granting myself the luxury of -another embrace I was preparing to ascend the blessed rope again for -the purpose of assisting Anna, when I discovered that incomparable -woman solidly and stolidly planted by our side in the snow. - -“All is right, gracious sir,” she said in a hoarse whisper; “but it -would be as well to take away that rope, since you can go up and down -so easily without it.” - -Recognising in an instant the wisdom of the suggestion—it was well -some one had a waking brain that night!—I clambered up once more, and -in a few seconds had flung down the tell-tale ladder, and descended -again. - -Anna took up the lantern, which she hid under her cloak, and, all -three clinging together, we hastened to the postern as noiselessly as -shadows. The snow fell, but the wind had all subsided, and the air was -now so still that the cold struck no chill. - -Outside the postern, seeing no one in sight, we paused. - -“I have told János to be at the bottom of the lane,” said I to Anna, as -she pocketed the key after turning the lock. And then to my wife, who -hung close and silent to my arm: “It is but a little way, and then you -shall rest.” - -Even as I spoke I turned to lead her, but Anna arrested me: - -“I have thought better,” she said. “To leave the town in a carriage is -dangerous. I have arranged otherwise.” - -I was about, I believe, to protest, or at least discuss, when Ottilie, -who had hitherto permitted herself to be led whither I would, like one -in a dream, suddenly cried to me in an urgent undertone to let Anna -have her way: “Believe me,” she said, “you will not repent it.” I would -have gone anywhere at the command of that voice. - -“It shall be so,” said I; “but there is János, and we cannot leave him -in the lurch.” - -“No, we must have János with us,” said Anna; “but that is easy. Follow -me, children.” And uncovering her lantern, with her skirts well kilted -up, she preceded us with fearless strides to the secluded turn at the -bottom of the lane, where, true to his promise, I found the heiduck and -his conveyance. - -For the greater security the lamps of the carriage had not been lit, -but we could see its bulk rise in denser black against the gloom -before us, and feel the warmth of the horses steam out upon us, with a -pleasant stable odour, into the purity of the air. - -There was a rapid colloquy between our two old servants. János, the -cunning fox! at once and appreciatively agreed to Anna’s superior plan -of action, and indeed his old campaigner’s wits promptly went one -better than the peasant’s shrewdness: instead of merely dismissing the -carriage as she suggested, he bade the coachman drive out by the East -Gate of the town and, halting at Gleiwitz, await at the main hostelry -there the party that would come on the morrow. And in the dark I could -see him emphasise the order by the transfer of some pieces, that -clicked knowingly in the night silence. The point of the manœuvre, -however, was only manifest to me when, turning to follow Anna’s lead -again down a side alley, the fellow breathed into my ear with a -chuckle: - -“While your honour was away I took upon myself to despatch his carriage -with our luggage, to meet us, I said, at Dresden. That will be two -false scents for them—and we, it seems, take the south road to Prague! -We shall puzzle Budissin yet.” - -On we tramped through the deserted bye-streets. It was only when we -were stopped at last, in that self-same poor little mean lane, before -the self-same poor little mean shop, faintly lit inside by a dull -oil lamp, that I recognised the scene of my morning’s interview with -Anna—that interview which seemed already to have passed into the far -regions of my memory, so much had I lived through since. - -We met but few folk upon our way, who paid little attention to us. As -we entered into the evil-smelling room, stepping down into it from -the street, and as Anna shot back the slide of the lantern and turned -upon us a triumphant smiling face, I felt that our chief peril was -over. The shop was empty, but she was not disposed to allow us even a -little halt: she marshalled us through the dank narrow passages with -which I had already made acquaintance, across the courtyard into the -back street. There stood a country waggon with a leathern tent. By the -flash of the lantern I saw that to it were harnessed a pair of great -raw-boned chestnuts that hung their heads patiently beneath the snow, -yet seemed to have known better service in their days—no doubt at one -time had felt the trooper’s spurs. - -Beside them stood a squat man, enveloped to the ears in sheepskin, with -a limp felt hat drawn over his brow till only some three-quarters of a -shrewd, empurpled, not unkindly visage was left visible. The waggoner -was evidently expecting us, for he came forward, withdrew his pipe, -touched his hat, and made a leg. - -“My cousin,” said Anna to us, and added briefly and significantly: “He -asks no questions.” - -Then in a severe tone of command she proceeded to address several to -him. Had he placed fresh hay in the waggon according to her orders? Had -he received from her sister the ham, and the wine and the blankets? Had -the horses been well fed? On receiving affirmative grunts in answer, -she bade him then immediately produce the chair, that the lady and the -gentleman might get in. - -Between the closed borders of her hood I caught a glimpse of Ottilie’s -faint smile, as lighted by the lantern rays she mounted upon the -wooden stool and disappeared into the dark recesses of the waggon, -stirring up a warm dust as she went, and a far-away fragrance of hay -and faded clover. - -“Now you, sir,” said Anna, and jogged my elbow. - -I believe at that moment we were to her but a pair of babes and -nurslings for whom she was responsible, and that she would have as -readily combed our hair and washed our faces as if we were still of a -size to be lifted on her knee. - -I obeyed. And truly, as I crawled forward in the dark, amid the warm -straw, groping my way to the further end till I laid my hand on -Ottilie’s soft young arm extended towards me, when I heard her laugh -a little laugh to herself as we snuggled in the nest together, I felt -a happiness that was like that of a child, all innocent of past and -improvident of future. Nevertheless at one and the same time my whole -being was stirred to its depths with a tenderness my manhood had not -yet known. - -In those foolish bygone days I had loved her, the sweet soul, with the -unworthy, mad passion of a lover for his mistress. When she left me I -had mourned her as a man mourns for his wife, flesh of his flesh, bone -of his bone. Now, however, we seemed to be lad and maid together; -our love, after all the sorrow and the agony we had passed through, -seemed to wear the unspeakable freshness of a first courtship. It -was written that good measure was to be paid me to compensate for -past anguish—good measure, heaped up, flowing over! I took it with a -thankful heart. - -The cart swayed and creaked as János and Anna mounted and settled -themselves at our feet, drawing the hay high over themselves. Then came -another creaking and swaying in the forward end, we heard a jingle of -bells, a crack of the whip and a hoarse shout: the cart groaned and -strained to the effort of the horses, then yielded. And at a grave pace -we rumbled over the cobble-stones, turning hither and thither through -street after street which we could not see. And in the midst of our hay -we felt a sense of comfortable irresponsibility and delicious mystery. -All in the inner darkness we were dimly conscious of the snowy pageant -outside: the ghost-like houses and the twinkling lights. Ottilie lay -against my shoulder, and I felt her light breath upon my cheek. - -After a while—it would be hard to say how long—there was a halt; -there came a shout from our driver, and an answering shout beyond. I -knew we had come to the Town Gates. That was a palpitating moment of -anxiety as the two voices exchanged parley, which the heavy beating -of the pulses in my ears would not allow me to follow. Next the rough -cadence of a jovial laugh fell loud upon the air, and then—sweeter -music I have seldom heard!—the clank of the gate’s bar. Once more we -felt ourselves rumbling on slowly till we had passed the bridge and -exchanged the cobbles of the town for the surface of the great Imperial -road, more lenient for all its ruts. The cousin cracked his whip again -and bellowed to his cattle; after infinite persuasion they broke into a -heavy jog-trot. - -“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” -said Anna suddenly from her dark corner, in a loud vibrating voice, -“give thanks to God, you children!” She leant forward as she spoke, and -pulled aside the leathern curtains that hung across the back of the -cart. - -With the rush of snowy air came to us framed by the aperture a -retreating vision of Budissin, studded here and there with rare gleams -of light. - -Thus did my wife, the young Princess of Lusatia, leave her father’s -dominions, her prospects of a throne, for the love of a simple English -gentleman! - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -I SHALL carry to the grave, as one of the sweetest of my life, the -memory of that night journey. Coming as it did between the fierce -emotions and dangers of our meeting and flight, and the perilous and -furious episode that yet awaited us, it seems doubly impregnated with -an exquisite serenity of happiness. Full of brief moments, that brought -me then a poignant joy, it brings to my heart as I look back on it now -a tenderness as of smiles and tears together. - -After a little while the flakes had ceased falling, and, in the faint -snowlight, beneath a clear sky, we gazed forth together from our -ambulant nest, here upon mysterious stretches of plain-land, there upon -ghosts of serried trees, trees that marched as it were past us back -towards Budissin. I remember how in a clear space of sky a star shone -out upon us at last, and how it seemed a good omen, and how we kissed -in the darkness. - -Then there was our meal, with Anna’s lantern to illumine the feast. I -was so lost in watching my beloved bite her black bread contentedly -with small white teeth, and toast me with loving eyes over the thin -wine, that I could scarce fall to, myself. Yet when I did so it was -with right good appetite, for I was hungered, and I never tasted better -fare. - -Then János got out of the waggon to sit in front by the driver and -smoke. My great-uncle had been such a confirmed tobacco-man that János -had acquired the habit in attendance upon him, and it did not behove me -to interfere with an indulgence fostered by thirty years’ service. - -Anyhow, on that night the stray whiffs of his strong tobacco mingled -not unpleasantly with the keen cold scents of the night; and the sound -of the two men’s talk, with the monotonous jingle and rumble of harness -and cart, made a comfortable human accompaniment to our passage in the -midst of the great silence. Anna went to sleep and snored after her -good day’s work, waking now and again with a start and a groan, and -thence to oblivion once more. And then we too, oblivious of the world, -fell into a long dream, hand in hand—a great wide-eyed dream filling -our silence with soaring music, our darkness with all the warm colour -of life. - -And thus we reached the first halting-place in the itinerary planned -by János and myself on the Imperial Chaussée. The place whence we -would best defy our enemies, and therefore our ultimate destination, -was of course my own Castle of Tollendhal, recent experience having -sufficiently demonstrated that in England we should be ill-protected -from the machinations of Budissin. This first stage was Löbau. - -Never did town look so thoroughly asleep under its snow-laden eaves, -behind its black shutters, thought I, as our tired horses, steaming and -stumbling, dragged our cart up the main street. - -A watchman had just sung out his cry: “The twelfth hour of the night, -and a clear heaven,” when we turned into the market-place, from the -middle of which he chanted his informing ditty to those Löbauers who -might chance to be awake to hear and thereby be comforted. - -Spear in one hand and lantern in the other, the fellow approached -to inquire into such an unusual event as the passage of midnight -travellers. We heard János, in brief tones, tell a plausible tale of -his lordship’s travelling coach having broken down (on its way from -Görlitz, said he, who never missed a chance of falsifying a scent!), -and of his lordship, who happened to be in a special haste to proceed, -having availed himself of a passing country cart to pursue his journey -to the next posting town, and so forth, all the main points of this -story being corroborated by an affirmative growl from our Jehu. -Whereupon the watchman, honest fellow, nothing loath doubtless to vary -the perennial monotony of his avocation, undertook to awaken for our -benefit the inmates of the post-house, the best house of entertainment, -he asseverated, in the town. - -It will be long, I take it, before the worthy burghers of Löbau, -and especially mine host of the “Cross Keys,” forget the mysterious -passage at dead of night of the great unknown magnate and his hooded -lady, of the tire-woman with the forbidding countenance, and of the -ugly body-servant, whose combined peremptoriness and lavish generosity -produced such wonders,—even had subsequent events not sufficed to fix -it upon their minds as a tragic epoch in the history of their country. - -A few minutes of obstinate hammering and bell-ringing by János and by -the deeply impressed watchman, awoke the hostelry from the depths of -its slumbers. The bark of dogs responded first to the clangour; lights -appeared at various corners; windows, and then doors, were thrown open. -At last János threw back the leather curtain of our conveyance, and hat -in hand, with his greatest air of bonne maison assisted my lord in his -cloak, my lady in the furs (both much ornamented with wisps of hay), to -alight from their cart. - -My lady, veiled and silent, retired for an hour’s rest, and so away -from the peering curiosity of the assembling servants. And my lord -paced the common-room, feverishly waiting for the coming of the -new conveyance which János, after one of his brief requisitioning -interviews (pandour style), had announced would be forthcoming with -brief delay. - -The common-room was dank and cold enough, but my lord’s soul was in -warm consorting: it was still exalted by the last look that my lady had -thrown back at him, raising her hood for one instant as, ascending the -stairs, she had left him for the first separation. - -In less than an hour the tinkling of collar-bells and the sound of -horses’ hoofs, clattering with a vigour of the best augury, were heard -approaching. Even as János entered to confirm by word the success of -his quest, my beloved appeared with a readiness which to me was sweeter -than any words: she too had been watching the moments which would speed -us onwards together once more. - -Through a pretty concourse of dependants, all of whom had now got wind -of the rain of gratuities with which the great traveller’s servant -eased the wheels of difficulty, we entered our new chariot. I can -hardly mind now what sort of a vehicle this was. I believe in its days -it had been a decent enough travelling chaise: at any rate it moved -fast. Once more we rolled through the silent street, on the hillside -roads, up hill and down dale, my bride warmly nestled in my arms, and -both of us telling over again the tangled tale of the year that had -been wasted for us. - -And thus, in the idle iteration of lovers’ talk, with the framing of -plans for the future, changeable and bright as the clouds of a summer’s -day, did we fill the rapid hours which brought us to Zittau in the -early morning. - -But Zittau was still within the dominions of the eloping Princess’s -father; and at Zittau, therefore, much the same procedure was hastily -adopted as at the previous stage: another hour or so of separation, -another chaise and fresh horses, and once more a flight along the -mountain roads, as the dawn was spreading grey and chill over the first -spurs of the Lusatian hills. - -This time we spoke but little to each other. The fatigue of a great -reaction was upon us. Anna was already snoring in her corner, her head -completely enveloped in her shawl, when, as I gazed down tenderly at -my wife’s face, I saw the sweet lids close in the very middle of a -smile, and the placidity of sleep fall upon her. - -I have had, since the Budissin events, many joys; but there is none the -savour of which dwells with so subtle, so delicate, a perfume in my -memory as that of my drive in the first dawn with my wife asleep in my -arms. - -It was not yet twelve hours since I had found her; and during those -twelve hours I had only seen her in the turmoil of emotion, or under -stress of anxiety, or by some flitting lamplight. Her image dwelt in my -mind as I had first beheld it through the glass of the palace window, -lovely in the first bloom of graceful womanhood, stately amid the -natural surroundings of her rank. Now, wrapped in confident slumber, -swathed in her great robes of fur, the only thing visible of her -young body being the little head resting in the hollow of my arm, the -fair skin flushing faintly in the repose of sleep, fresh even in the -searching cruelty of the growing light, like the petal of a tea rose, -the rhythmic pulse of her bosom faintly beating against my heart, she -was once more, for a little while, to me the Ottilie I had held in my -castle at Tollendhal. And as, for fear of disturbing her, I restrained -my passionate longing to kiss those parted lips, those closed lids -with the soft long eyelashes, I could not tell which I yearned for -most: the Princess, the ripe woman I had found again ... or the wayward -mistress playing at wife I had schooled myself to banish in the wasted -days of my overweening vanity. - -But why thus linger over the first stage of that happy journey? Joy can -only be told by contrast to misery. We can explain sorrow in a hundred -pages, but if delight cannot be told in one, it cannot be told at all. -It is too elusive to be kept within the meshes of many words. Sorrows -we forget,—by a merciful dispensation,—and it may be wholesome to -keep their remembrance in books. Joys ever cling to the phials of -memory like a scent which nought can obliterate. - -And since I have undertaken to record the reconquest of Jennico’s -happiness, there remains yet to tell the manner in which it all but -foundered in the haven. For this heartwhole ecstasy of mine could not -last in its entirety beyond a few brief moments. As I thus grasped -my happiness, with a mind free at last from the confusing vapours of -haste and excitement, even as the fair world around us emerged sharp -and bright from amid the shadows of dawn, all the precariousness of -our situation became likewise defined. Between me and the woman I -loved, though now I held her locked in my arms, arose the everlasting -menace of separation. How long would we be left together? Where could -I fly with her to keep her safe? I hoped that amid the feudal state of -my castle I could defy persecution, but what could such a life be at -best? Thus, in the very first sweetness of our reunion, was felt the -bitterness of that hidden suspense that must eventually poison all. - -Now as I look back, nothing seems more dreamlike than the way in which -my boding thought suddenly assumed the reality of actual event. - -“In a little while” (I was saying to myself, as I watched the shadows -shorten, and the beams of sunlight grow broader upon the snow), “in a -little while the hounds will be started in pursuit, the old persecution -will be resumed, more devilish than ever.” And at the thought, against -my will, a contraction shook the arm on which my love was resting. She -stirred and awoke, at first bewildered, then smiling at me. I let down -the glass of the coach, that the brisk morning air might blow in upon -us and freshen our tired limbs. - -We were then advancing but slowly, being midway up the slope of -a great wide dale; the horses toiled and steamed. And then as we -tasted keenly the vigorous freshness of the morning air, and looked -forth, speechless, upon the beauty of the waking hour of nature—that -incomparable hour so few of us wot of—there came into the great -silence, broken only by the straining of harness and the faint thud of -our horses’ hoofs in the snow, another noise: a curious, faint, little, -far-off noise like to no sound of nature. Ottilie glanced at me, and I -saw the pupil of her eye dilate. She uttered no word, neither did I. -But, all at once, we knew that there was some one galloping behind us. - -I thrust my head out. János was already on the alert: standing with his -back to the horses, leaning upon the top of the coach, he was looking -earnestly down the valley. I can see his face still, all wrinkled and -puckered together in the effort of peering against the first level -rays of the sun. Now, as I leaned out also, and the horse’s gallop -grew nearer and nearer upon my ear, I caught, as I thought, a faint -accompaniment of other hoofs, still more distant. I looked at János, -who brought down his eyes to mine. - -“But three altogether, my lord,” he said. And, reaching as he spoke -for his musketoon, he laid it on top of the coach. “And, thank God,” -he added, “one can see a long way down this slope.” He bade the driver -draw up on one side of the road, and I was able myself to look -straight into the valley. - -A flying figure, that grew every second larger and blacker against -the white expanse beneath us, was rushing up towards us with almost -incredible swiftness. In the absolute stillness of the world locked -in snow, the rhythm of the hoofs, the squelching of the saddle, the -laboured snorting of the over-driven horse, were already audible. -There were not many seconds to spare—and action followed thought as -prompt as flash and sound. There was only time, in fact, to place the -bewildered Anna, just awakened, by my wife’s side at the back of the -coach, to pull up the shutter of both windows, and to leap out. - -I was hatless. I grasped my still sheathed sword in one hand, and with -the other fumbled for my pistols in my coat skirts, whilst with a -thrust of my shoulder I clapped the coach door to. There was not time -even to exchange a word with Ottilie, but her deathly pallor struck me -to the heart and fired me to the most murderous resolve. - -And now all happened quicker than words can follow. No sooner had I -touched the ground, than out of space as it were, roaring and reeking, -hugely black against the sunshine, the horse and his rider were upon -me. I had failed to draw my pistol, but I had shaken the scabbard off -my sword. There seemed scarce a blade’s length between me and the -flying onslaught. Suddenly, however, the great animal swerved upon -one side, and was pulled up, almost crouching on its haunches, by the -force of an iron hand. The rider’s face, outlined against the horse’s -steaming neck, bent towards me: Prince Eugen’s—great indeed would have -been my surprise had it been any other—ensanguined, distorted with -fury, glowing with vindictive triumph, as once before I had seen it -thus thrust into mine. - -“Thou dog, Jennico ... ill-slaughtered interloper ... at last I have -got thee! Out of my way thou goest this time!...” - -As it spat these words, incoherently, the red face became blocked from -my view by a fist outstretched, and I found myself looking down the -black mouth of a pistol barrel. I cut at it with my sword, even as the -yellow flame leaped out: my blade was shattered and flew, burring, -overhead. But the ball passed me. At the same instant there came a -shout from above; the Prince looked up and, quick as thought, wrenched -at his horse; the noble beast rose, beating the air with his forefeet, -just as János fired, over my head. For a second all was confusion. The -air seemed full of plunging hoofs and blinding smoke. Our own horses, -taking fright, dragged the carriage some yards away, where it stuck -in a snowheap. Then things became clear again. I saw,—I know not -how,—but all in the same flash, I saw a few paces beyond me, János -now standing in the road, my wife in her dishevelled furs behind him; -and in front, free from the bulk of his dying horse, my enemy on foot, -pistol in hand, and once more covering me with the most determined -deliberation of aim. With my bladeless sword hilt hanging bracelet-like -on my sprained wrist, defenceless, I stood, dizzily, facing my doom. - -Then for a third time the air rang with a shattering explosion. -The Prince flung both arms up, and I saw his great body founder -headforemost, a mere mass of clay, almost at my feet. I turned again, -and there was my János, with the smoking musketoon still to his cheek, -and there also my wife with the face of an avenging angel, one hand -upon his shoulder, and the other, with unerring gesture of command, -still pointing at the space beyond me where but a second before stood -the enemy who had held my life on the play of his forefinger. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -FOR the space of a few seconds we three stood motionless. The awful -stillness of the shadow of death was upon our souls. Then, approaching -from the distance came again to our ears the sound of hoofs, the -stumbling trot of a tired horse; and the quick wits of János were -awakened to action. - -“Into the carriage, my lady,” said he, “and you, my lord! We have -loosed enough shots for one day, and so it is best we should move on -again and avoid these other gentlemen.” - -He smiled as he spoke, a grim, triumphant smile. As for me, it was -certes nothing less than triumph I felt in my heart. I would have had -Prince Eugen dead, indeed, but not so, not so! - -“Let us, at least,” I cried a little wildly, “see if he still breathes!” - -“No need, my lord;” and János caught me by the wrist. “I am not so old -yet,” he added, eyeing his weapon with a delighted look, “but what I -can still aim straight. Did I not know him to be as truly carrion now -as his good horse itself, poor beast, I would surely enough despatch -him as he lies there biting the mud. But no need, my lord. Right in -the heart! The man was dead before he touched the ground.” And as he -spoke János dragged us towards the coach. - -The driver, half risen from his seat, still clutching one rein, -seemed struck into an imbecility of terror; the horses, now quieted, -stretching their necks luxuriously against the loosened bits, were -sniffing at the snow, as if in the hope of lighting upon a blade of -grass. Anna sat on the steps, her face blanched to a sort of grey. - -“Up with you!” said János, and pushed her with his knee. “Do you not -see your lady is faint?” The words aroused her, and they roused me. In -truth, Ottilie seemed scarcely able to sustain herself; it was time I -carried her away from such scenes. - -After closing the doors, János handed me the musketoon and the -cartouche-box, with the brief remark: “His lordship had better load -again, the while I drive, for this coachman of ours is out of his wits -with fright.” And thus we started once more; and in the crash and -rattle of the speed to which János mercilessly put the horses, the -stumbling paces of the approaching pursuers were lost to our hearing. -The draught of air across her face revived Ottilie, who now sat up with -courage, and tried to smile at me, though her face was still set in a -curious hardness, whilst I, with the best ability of a sprained wrist, -reloaded and reprimed. Events (as I have oft thought since) had proved -how happy a thought it had been of mine (some two weeks before, when -we made our preparations to leave London, to gratify my good János’s -desire for one of those admirable double-barrels I had seen him so -appreciatively and so covetously handle at Fargus and Manton’s, in -Soho.) - -When we reached the neck of the valley, I leaned out again and looked -back. The scene of that crisis in my eventful life lay already some -hundred yards below us. The second of our pursuers—a dragoon of -Liegnitz, as I now could see by his white coat, dirty yellow against -the snow—was in the act of dismounting from his exhausted steed. -I watched him bend over the prostrate figure of his chief for an -instant or two; then straighten himself to gaze up at our retreating -coach; then, with his arms behind him and his legs apart, in what, -even at that distance, I could see was an attitude of philosophical -indifference, turn towards the approaching figure of his comrade, who, -some hundred yards further down, now made his appearance on the road, -crawling onwards on an obviously foundered horse. It was evident -that whatever admiration the Margrave may have commanded during his -lifetime, his death did not inspire his followers with any burning -desire to avenge it. - -I leant out further and handed back the loaded musketoon to János. - -“You may spare our horses now,” said I; “there is no fear of further -pursuit to-day.” - -“Ay, my lord, so I see,” responded the heiduck, with a cheerful jerk of -the head in our rear. “And, moreover, in a quarter of an hour we shall -be across the border.” - - * * * * * - -Now of our story there is little more to tell. And well for us that it -is so; for one may, as I have said, chronicle strange adventures and -perils of life and limb, and one may pour out on paper the sorrows of -an aching heart, the frenzy of despair; but the sweet intimate details -of happiness must be kept secret and sacred, not only from the pen but -from the tongue. It will not, however, come amiss that, to complete my -narrative—in which, one day, if Heaven will, my children shall learn -the romance of their parents’ wooing and marriage—I should set down -how it came about that the Margrave contrived (to his own undoing) to -track us so speedily; how, with his death, came the dispelling of the -shadows upon both our lives. - -Shortly after our return to Tollendhal, a letter reached my wife from -the other Ottilie. It was evidently written in the greatest distraction -of mind, upon the very morning after our escape from Budissin. Although -conversation may not have been a strong point with Madam Lothner, -she seemed to wield a very fluent pen. She took two large sheets to -inform us how, upon her husband’s return on the previous night, his -suspicions being by some unaccountable means awakened, he had forced -from her the confession of all that had passed between us in the -afternoon. I cannot here take up my space and time with the record of -her excuses, her anguish, her points of exclamation, her appeals to -Heaven to witness the innocence of her intentions. But when I read her -missive I understood Anna’s contemptuous prophecy: “She keep a secret? -the sheep-head!” I understood also my wife’s attitude of tolerant -affection, and I blushed when I remembered the time when, blinded by -conceit, I had sought this great mock-pearl, when the real jewel lay at -my hand.... But to proceed. - -The doctor had instantly given the alarm at the palace, with the -result that the Princess’s flight was discovered within two hours -after it had taken place. Now the uproar in the Ducal household was, -it seems, beyond description. Two detachments of dragoons were at -once sent in pursuit of the two carriages which were known to have -left the town that night. (How we blessed Anna’s shrewder scheme!) -When they returned, empty-handed of course, the nature of the trick -was perceived. Prince Eugen—whose fury, it appears, was something -quite appalling to behold, not only because of the reassertion of the -Princess’s independence, but because the man whom he had taken so much -trouble to obliterate had presumed to be alive after all!—Prince -Eugen, according to his wont, took matters into his own hands. He -sallied forth with his henchman the doctor, to make inquiries for -himself in the town. The result of these was the discovery of the -passage of one Hans Meyerhofer’s cart out by the South Gate after -closing hours. This man was known to the doctor (whose stables he -supplied with fodder) as being Anna’s cousin, and the connection of the -Princess’s nurse with the scheme of escape was well demonstrated by her -own disappearance. This discovery was sufficient for the Margrave, and -(very much, it would appear, against the real wishes of the Duke, whose -most earnest desire was to proceed with as little scandal as possible) -he with half a dozen troopers instantly set forth in pursuit on the -road to Prague. Of these troopers, as we had seen, most had broken down -on the way, and none had been able to keep up with the higher mettled -mount of their leader—fortunately for us. - -It was after his departure that Madam Lothner wrote. She was convinced, -as she characteristically remarked, that the Prince would be -successful, and that the most dire misfortunes were about to fall upon -everybody—all through the obstinacy of M. de Jennico, who really could -not say he had not been warned. Nevertheless, on the chance of their -having escaped, either to England or to Tollendhal (and she addressed -her letter to Tollendhal, trusting that it would be forwarded), -she could not refrain from pouring forth her soul into her beloved -Princess’s bosom—and so forth and so on. In fact, the good woman had -wanted a confidant, and had found it on paper. - -Our next information regarding the Court of Lausitz came from a very -different source, and was of a totally different description. It was -the announcement in the Vienna News-Sheet of the death of Eugen, -Margrave of Liegnitz-Rothenburg, through a fall from his horse upon a -hunting expedition. It was also stated that, yielding at last to her -repeated requests, the Duke had consented to the retirement into a -convent of his only daughter, Princess Marie Ottilie, such having been -(it was stated) her ardent desire for more than a year. The name of the -convent was not given. - - * * * * * - -Here this memoir, begun in such storm and stress, within and without, -continued in such different moods and for such varied motives, ends -with the mantle of peace upon us, with the song of birds in our ears. - -Tollendhal, that I knew beautiful in the autumn; Tollendhal, the shrine -of our young foolish love, is now beautiful with the budding green all -round it under a dappled sky. But never had the old stronghouse looked -to me so noble as when I brought my bride back to it in the snow. As -the carriage at last entered upon the valley road and we saw it rise -before us, high against the sky, white-roofed and black-walled, stern, -strong, and frowning, while the winter sun flashed back a warm, red -welcome to the returning masters, from some high window here and there, -I felt my heart stir. And as I looked at Ottilie I saw in her eyes the -reflection of the same fire. - -Our people had been prepared for our coming by messengers from Prague. -The court of honour was thronged, and we entered amid acclamations such -as would have satisfied the heart of a king coming to his own again. We -had broken the bread and tasted the salt; we had drunk of the wine on -the threshold; we had been conducted in state; and at last, at last we -found ourselves alone in the old room where my great-uncle’s portrait -kept its silent watch! János, who, his work of trust done, had fallen -back into his place of heiduck as simply as the faithful blade falls -back into the scabbard, had retired to his station outside the door. -Without rang the wild music of the gipsies to the feasting people, and -the tremors of the czimbalom found an answer in the very fibres of my -soul—to such music she had first come to me in my dreams! - -The walls of the room were all ruddy with the reflection of the bonfire -in the courtyard: the very air was filled with joy and colour. And -there was my great-uncle’s portrait—he was simpering with ineffable -complacency; and there the rolled-up parchment; and there the table -where we had quarrelled, and where, since then, I had poured forth such -mad regrets. Oh! my God! what memories!... and there was my wife! - -Since the events which had first divided and then reunited us for ever, -I had not yet been able to find in the sweet, silent, docile woman I -had snatched back to my heart, the wilful Ottilie of old. Her spirits -seemed to have been sobered; her gaiety, her petulance, to have been -lost in the still current of the almost fearful happiness bought at the -price of blood; and at times, in my inmost heart, I had mourned for my -lost sprite. But now, as we stood together, she all illumined with the -rosy radiance from the fire, she looked of a sudden from the picture on -the wall to me, and I saw a spark of the old mockery leap into her eyes. - -“And so, sir,” she said, “the forward person who married you against -your will is mistress here again, after all!... but you will always -remember, I trust, that it is the privilege of a princess to choose -her partner.” And then she added, coming a step nearer me: “To-morrow -we must fill in the pedigree again—what say you, M. Jean Nigaud de la -Faridondaine?” - -Now, as she spoke, her lips arched into the well-remembered smile, and -beside it danced the dimple. And I know not what came upon me, for -there are joys so subtle that they unman even as sorrows, but I fell at -her feet with tears. - - - - - THE CHOIR INVISIBLE. - -By JAMES LANE ALLEN, - -_Author of “A Summer in Arcady,” “A Kentucky Cardinal,” etc._ - -12mo. Cloth. $1.50. - - -“‘The Choir Invisible’ bears upon its front that unspeakable repose, -that unhurried haste which is the hall-mark of literature; it is -alive with the passion of beauty and of pain; it vibrates with that -incommunicable thrill which Stevenson called the tuning-fork of art. -It is distinguished by a sweet and noble seriousness, through which -there strains the sunny light of a glancing humour, a wayward fancy, -like sunbeams stealing into a cathedral close through stained-glass -windows.”—_The Bookman._ - -“What impresses one most in this exquisite romance of Kentucky’s green -wilderness is the author’s marvellous power of drawing word-pictures -that stand before the mind’s eye in all the vividness of actuality. -Mr. Allen’s descriptions of nature are genuine poetry of form and -color.”—_The Tribune_, New York. - -“The impressions left by the book are lasting ones in every sense of -the word, and they are helpful as well. Strong, clear-cut, positive -in its treatment, the story will become a power in its way, and the -novelist-historian of Kentucky, its cleverest author, will achieve -a triumph second to no literary man’s in the country.”—_Commercial -Tribune_, Cincinnati. - -“It is this mighty movement of the Anglo-Saxon race in America, this -first appearance west of the mountains of civilized white types, that -Mr. Allen has chosen as the motive of his historical novel. And in -thus recalling ’the immortal dead’ he has aptly taken the title from -George Eliot’s greatest poem. It is by far his most ambitious work -in scope, in length, and in character drawing, and in construction. -And, while it deals broadly with the beginning of the nation, it gains -picturesqueness from the author’s _milieu_, as hardly anywhere else -were the aristocratic elements of colonial life so contrasted with the -rugged life of the backwoods.”—_The Journal._ - - - - - Works by F. Marion Crawford. - - - =CORLEONE.= By F. MARION CRAWFORD, author of “Saracinesca,” “Katharine - Lauderdale,” “Taquisara,” etc. Two volumes in box. $2.00. - - “Beginning in Rome, thence shifting to Sicily, and so back and - forth, the mere local color of the scene of action is of a depth and - variety to excite an ordinary writer to extravagance of diction, to - enthusiasm, at least of description; the plot is highly dramatic, not - to say sensational.... - - “Our author has created one of the strongest situations wherewith we - are acquainted, either in the novel or the drama. - - “Then he has rendered an important service to social science, in - addition to creating one of the strongest and most delightful novels - of our century.”—_The Bookman._ - - =A ROSE OF YESTERDAY.= Cloth. $1.25. - - =TAQUISARA.= Two volumes. 16mo. In box. $2.00. - - =CASA BRACCIO.= With thirteen full-page illustrations from drawings by - CASTAIGNE. Buckram. Two volumes in box. $2.00. - - =ADAM JOHNSTONE’S SON.= With twenty-four full-page illustrations by A. - FORESTIER. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50. - - =THE RALSTONS.= Two volumes. 16mo. Cloth. $2.00. - - -Uniform Edition of Mr. Crawford’s Other Novels. - -12mo. Cloth. Price $1.00 each. - - =Katharine Lauderdale.= - =Marion Darche.= - =A Roman Singer.= - =An American Politician.= - =Paul Patoff.= - =Marzio’s Crucifix.= - =Saracinesca.= - =A Tale of a Lonely Parish.= - =Zoroaster.= - =Dr. Claudius.= - =Mr. Isaacs.= - =Children of the King.= - =Pietro Ghisleri.= - =Don Orsino.= A Sequel to “Saracinesca,” and “Sant’Ilario.” - =The Three Fates.= - =The Witch of Prague.= - =Khaled.= - =A Cigarette-Maker’s Romance.= - =Sant’ Ilario.= A sequel to “Saracinesca.” - =Greifenstein.= - =With the Immortals.= - =To Leeward.= - - - - - ALFRED LORD TENNYSON. - -A MEMOIR. - -BY - -HIS SON. - -8vo. Cloth. Two Vols. Price, $10.00, _net_. - - -These volumes of over 500 pages each contain many letters written or -received by Lord Tennyson, to which no other biographer could have had -access, and in addition a large number of poems hitherto unpublished. - -Several chapters are contributed by such of his friends as Dr. Jowett, -the Duke of Argyll, the late Earl of Selborne, Mr. Lecky, Professor -Francis T. Palgrave, Professor Tyndall, Mr. Aubrey de Vere, and others, -who thus express their personal recollections. - -There are many illustrations, engraved after pictures by Richard Doyle, -Samuel Lawrence, G. F. Watts, R.A., etc., in all about twenty full-page -portraits and other illustrations. - - -COMMENTS. - -“The biography is easily the biography not only of the year, but of -the decade, and the story of the development of Tennyson’s intellect -and of his growth—whatever may be the varying opinions of his exact -rank among the greatest poets—into one of the few masters of English -verse, will be found full of thrilling interest, not only by the critic -and student of literature, but by the average reader.”—_The New York -Times._ - -“Two salient points strike the reader of this memoir. One is that it is -uniformly fascinating, so rich in anecdote and marginalia as to hold -the attention with the power of a novel. In the next place, it has been -put together with consummate tact, if not with academic art.... - -“It is authoritative if ever a memoir was. But, we repeat, it has -suffered no harm from having been composed out of family love and -devotion. It is faultless in its dignity.”—_The New York Tribune._ - - - - - THE LETTERS OF ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. - -EDITED WITH BIOGRAPHICAL ADDITIONS - -BY - -FREDERICK G. KENYON. - -With portraits. In two volumes. Crown 8vo. $4.00. - - -Two medium octavo volumes, with portraits, etc. The earliest -correspondence quoted took place when the writer was a young girl, -and every period of her life is represented in these frank and simple -letters. She knew many interesting people, was in Paris during the -_coup d’état_ in 1851, and lived in Florence during years of great -excitement in Italy. Among other pen-pictures she gives one of the few -English sketches we have of George Sand, whom she met several times. - - “The letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning are an interesting - contribution to the literature of literary correspondence and an - agreeable addition to the literature of literary biography.”—_New - York Mail and Express._ - - “The Browning letters are admirably edited by Mr. Frederick C. Kenyon, - who holds them together with biographical notes which give the book an - additional value.”—_Philadelphia Press._ - - “Not since the publication of ’The Letters of Agassiz’ has there been - a nobler revelation of character in a biographical volume.”—_Boston - Evening Transcript._ - - “The letters now presented to the public are precisely as they came - from the pen of the writer, and we are reminded that it is Mrs. - Browning’s character, and not her genius, which is delineated in - these valuable contributions to literature....”—_New York Commercial - Advertiser._ - - -THE MACMILLAN COMPANY, - -66 Fifth Avenue, New York. - - - - - * * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - -—Obvious errors were corrected. - -—A Table of Contents was not in the original work; one has been - produced and added by Transcriber. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRIDE OF JENNICO*** - - -******* This file should be named 51238-0.txt or 51238-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/1/2/3/51238 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. 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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 <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: The Pride of Jennico</p> -<p> Being a Memoir of Captain Basil Jennico</p> -<p>Author: Agnes Castle and Egerton Castle</p> -<p>Release Date: February 17, 2016 [eBook #51238]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRIDE OF JENNICO***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by Giovanni Fini, David Edwards,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/prideofjennicobe00castrich"> - https://archive.org/details/prideofjennicobe00castrich</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="limit"> -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="350" height="501" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="pc4 elarge">THE PRIDE OF JENNICO</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/logo.jpg" width="200" height="289" - alt="" - title="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> - -<h1 class="p4">THE<br /> -<span class="mid">PRIDE OF JENNICO</span></h1> - -<p class="pc4">BEING</p> -<p class="pc1 mid"><i>A Memoir of Captain Basil Jennico</i></p> - -<p class="pc4">BY</p> -<p class="pc1 mid">AGNES AND EGERTON CASTLE</p> - -<p class="pc4 mid font1">New York</p> -<p class="pc mid">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</p> -<p class="pc">LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span></p> -<p class="pc">1899</p> -<p class="pc2 reduct"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pc4 reduct"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1897, 1898,<br /> -By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.</span></p> - -<hr class="d1" /> - -<div class="limit1"> -<p>Set up and electrotyped February, 1898. Reprinted February, -April, June three times, July, September, October, December, twice, -1898.</p></div> - - -<p class="pc4 reduct"><span class="font1 mid">Norwood Press</span><br /> -J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith<br /> -Norwood, Mass. U.S.A.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CONTENTS</h2> - -<p class="pc2 large">PART I</p> - -<table id="toc1" summary="cont1"> - - <tr> - <td colspan="2"> </td> - <td class="tdr1"><span class="small">Page</span></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER I.</td> - <td class="tdl1"><span class="smcap">Memoir of Captain Basil Jennico (begun, -apparently in great trouble and stress of -mind, at the Castle of Tollendhal, in Moravia, -on the third day of the great storm, late in -the year 1771)</span></td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER II.</td> - <td class="tdl1"><span class="smcap">Basil Jennico’s Memoir continued</span></td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER III.</td> - <td rowspan="7"> </td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER IV.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER V.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER VI.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER VII.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER VIII.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER IX.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<p class="pc2 large">PART II</p> - -<table id="toc2" summary="cont2"> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER I.</td> - <td class="tdl1"><span class="smcap">Memoir of Captain Basil Jennico (a portion, -written early in the year 1772, in his rooms -at Griffin’s, Cur zon Street)</span></td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER II.</td> - <td class="tdl1"><span class="smcap">Captain Basil Jennico’s Memoir continued</span></td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER III.</td> - <td class="tdl1"><span class="smcap">Captain Basil Jennico’s Memoir, resumed three -months later, at Farringdon Dane</span></td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER IV.</td> - <td class="tdl1"><span class="smcap">Narrative of an episode at White’s Club, in -which Captain Jennico was concerned, set forth -from contemporary accounts</span></td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER V.</td> - <td class="tdl1"><span class="smcap">Narrative of an Episode at White’s continued</span></td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<p class="pc2 large">PART III</p> - -<table id="toc3" summary="cont3"> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER I.</td> - <td class="tdl1"><span class="smcap">Memoir of Captain Basil Jennico</span> -(<span class="smcap">resumed in the spring of the year 1773</span>)</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_230">230</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER II.</td> - <td rowspan="6" > </td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER III.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER IV.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER V.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER VI.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_319">319</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr1">CHAPTER VII.</td> - <td class="tdr2"><a href="#Page_332">332</a></td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p class="pc4 xlarge">THE PRIDE OF JENNICO</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/b1.jpg" width="100" height="25" - alt="" - title="" /> -</div> - -<p class="pc elarge">PART I</p> - -<h2 class="p2">CHAPTER I</h2> - -<p class="pch1"><span class="smcap">Memoir of Captain Basil Jennico (begun, apparently -in great trouble and stress of mind, at the Castle -of Tollendhal, in Moravia, on the third day of -the great storm, late in the year 1771)</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> the wind rattles the casements with impotent -clutch, howls down the stair-turret with the -voice of a despairing soul, creeps in long irregular -waves between the tapestries and the granite -walls of my chamber and wantons with the flames -of logs and candles; knowing, as I do, that outside -the snow is driven relentlessly by the gale, -and that I can hope for no relief from the company -of my wretched self,—for they who have -learnt the temper of these wild mountain winds -tell me the storm must last at least three days -more in its fury,—I have bethought me, to keep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -from going melancholy crazed altogether, to set -me some regular task to do.</p> - -<p>And what can more fitly occupy my poor mind -than the setting forth, as clearly as may be, the -divers events that have brought me to this strange -plight in this strange place? although, I fear me, -it may not in the end be over-clear, for in sooth I -cannot even yet see a way through the confusion -of my thoughts. Nay, I could at times howl in -unison with yonder dismal wind for mad regret; -and at times again rage and hiss and break myself, -like the fitful gale, against the walls of this desolate -house for anger at my fate and my folly!</p> - -<p>But since I can no more keep my thoughts -from wandering to her and wondering upon her -than I can keep my hot blood from running—running -with such swiftness that here, alone in -the wide vaulted room, with blasts from the four -corners of the earth playing a very demon’s dance -around me, I am yet all of a fever heat—I will -try whether, by laying bare to myself all I know -of her and of myself, all I surmise and guess of -the parts we acted towards each other in this -business, I may not at least come to some understanding, -some decision, concerning the manner in -which, as a man, I should comport myself in my -most singular position.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<p>Having reached thus far in his writing, the -scribe after shaking the golden dust of the pounce -box over his page paused, musing for a moment, -loosening with unconscious fingers the collar of -his coat from his neck and gazing with wide grey -eyes at the dancing flames of the logs, and the -little clouds of ash that ever and anon burst from -the hearth with a spirt when particles of driven -snow found their way down the chimney. Presently -the pen resumed its travels:</p> - -<p class="p2">Everything began, of course, through my great-uncle -Jennico’s legacy. Do I regret it? I -have sometimes cursed it. Nevertheless, although -tossed between conflicting regrets and yearnings, -I cannot in conscience wish it had not come to -pass. Let me be frank. Bitter and troubling is -my lot in the midst of my lonely splendour; but -through the mist which seems in my memory to -separate the old life from the new, those days of -yesteryear (for all their carelessness and fancy-freedom) -seem now strangely dull. Yes, it is -almost a year already that it came, this legacy, by -which a young Englishman, serving in his Royal -and Imperial Majesty’s Chevau-Legers, was suddenly -transformed, from an obscure Rittmeister -with little more worldly goods than his pay, into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -one of the richest landowners in the broad Empire, -the master of an historic castle on the Bohemian -Marches.</p> - -<p>It was indeed an odd turn of fortune’s wheel. -But doubtless there is a predestination in such -things, unknown to man.</p> - -<p>My great-uncle had always taken a peculiar -interest in me. Some fifty years before my birth, -precluded by the religion of our family from any -hope of advancement in the army of our own -country, he had himself entered the Imperial service; -and when I had reached the age of manhood, -he insisted on my being sent to him in -Vienna to enter upon the same career. To him -I owe my rapid promotion after the Turkish campaign -of 1769. But I question, for all his influence -at Court, whether I should have benefited -otherwise than through his advice and interest, -had it not been for an unforeseen series of moves -on the part of my elder brother at home.</p> - -<p>One fine day it was announced to us that this -latter had been offered and had accepted a barony -in the peerage of Great Britain. At first it did -not transpire upon what grounds a Catholic gentleman -should be so honoured, and we were obliged, -my uncle and I, to content ourselves with the impossible -explanation that “Dear Edmund’s value<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -and abilities and the great services he had rendered -by his exertions in the last Suffolk Elections had -been brought to the notice of his Majesty, who was -thus graciously pleased to show his appreciation -of the same.”</p> - -<p>Our good mother (who would not be the true -woman she is did she not set a value on the honours -of this world), my excellent brother, and, of -course, his ambitious lady, all agreed that it was -a mighty fine thing for Sir Edmund Jennico to become -My Lord Rainswick, and they sent us many -grandiloquent missives to that effect.</p> - -<p>But with my great-uncle things were vastly different. -To all appearance he had grown, during -the course of his sixty odd years in the Imperial -service, into a complete unmitigated foreigner, -who spoke English like a German, if, indeed, the -extraordinary jargon he used (under the impression -that it was his mother tongue) could be so called. -As a matter of fact it would have been difficult to -say what tongue was my great-uncle’s own. It -was not English nor French—not even the French -of German courts—nor true German, but the -oddest compound of all three, with a strong peppering -of Slovack or Hungarian according as the -country in which he served suggested the adjunction. -A very persuasive compound it proved,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -however, when he took up his commanding voice, -poor man! But, foreigner as he was, covered as -his broad chest might be with foreign orders, freely -as he had spent his life’s energy in the pay of a -foreign monarch, my great-uncle Jennico had too -much English pride of race, too much of the old -Jennico blood (despite this same had been so often -let for him by Bavarian and Hanoverian, Prussian, -French, and Turk), to brook in peace what he -considered a slight upon his grand family traditions.</p> - -<p>Now this was precisely what my brother had -committed. In the first place he had married a -lady who, I hear, is amazingly handsome, and -sufficiently wealthy, but about whose lineage it -seems altogether unadvisable to seek clear information. -Busy as he was in the midst of his last -campaign, my great-uncle (who even in the wilds -of Bulgaria seemed to keep by some marvellous -means in touch with what moves were being played -by the family in distant Suffolk) nevertheless had -the matter probed. And the account he received -was not of a satisfactory nature. I fear me that -those around him then did not find the fierceness -of his rule softened by the unwelcome news from -that distant island of Britain.</p> - -<p>The Jennicos, although they had been degraded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -(so my uncle maintained) by the gift of a paltry -baronetcy at the hands of Charles II., as a reward -for their bleeding and losses in the Royal cause, -were, he declared, of a stock with which blood-royal -itself might be allied without derogation. -The one great solace of his active life was a recapitulation -of the deeds, real or legendary, that, since -the landing of the Danes on Saxon soil, had marked -the passage through history of those thirty-one -authentic generations, the twenty-ninth of which -was so worthily represented by himself. The -worship of the name was with him an absolute -craze.</p> - -<p>It is undoubtedly to that craze that I owe my -accession of fortune—ay, and my present desolation -of heart....</p> - -<p>But to resume. When, therefore, already dissatisfied -with my brother’s alliance, he heard that -the head of the family proposed to engraft upon it -a different name—a <i>soi-disant</i> superior title—his -wrath was loud and deep:</p> - -<p>“Eh quoi! mille millions de Donnerblitzen! -what the Teufel idiot think? what you think?”</p> - -<p>I was present when the news arrived; it was in -his chancellerie on the Josefsplatz at Vienna. I -shall not lightly forget the old man’s saffron face.</p> - -<p>“Does that Schaffkopf brother of yours not verstand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -what Jennico to be means? what thinkest -thou? would I be what I am, were it not that I -have ever known, boy, what I was geborn to when -I was Jennico geborn? How comes it that I am -what I here am? How is it gecome, thinkest thou, -that I have myself risen to the highest honour -in the Empire, that I am field-marshal this day, -above the heads of your princekins, your grand-dukeleins, -highnesses, and serenities? Dummes -Vieh!”—with a parenthetical shake of his fist at -the open paper on his desk—“how is it gecome -that I wedded la belle Héritière des Woschutzski, -the most beautiful woman in Silesia, the richest, -pardi! the noblest?” And his Excellency (methinks -I see him now) turned to me with sudden -solemnity: “You will answer me,” he said in an -altered voice, “you will answer me (because you -are a fool youth), that I have become great general -because I am the bravest soldier, the cleverest -commander, of all the Imperial troops; that I to -myself have won the lady for whom Transparencies -had sued in vain because of being the -most beautiful man in the whole Kaiserlich service.”</p> - -<p class="p2">Here the younger Jennico, for all the vexation -of spirit which had suggested the labour of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -systematic narrative as a distraction, could not -help smiling to himself, as, with pen raised towards -the standish, he paused for a moment to recall on -how many occasions he had heard this explanation -of the Field-Marshal’s success in life. Then the -grating of the quill began afresh:</p> - -<p class="p2">When my venerable relative came to this, I, -being an irreverent young dog, had much ado to -keep myself from a great yell of laughter. He -was pleased to remark, latterly, in an approving -mood, that I was growing every day into a more -living image of what he remembered himself to -have been in the good times when he wore a -cornet’s uniform. I should therefore have felt -delicately flattered, but the fact is that the tough -old soldier, if in the divers accidents of war he had -gathered much glory, had not come off without a -fine assortment of disfiguring wounds. The ball -that passed through his cheeks at Leuthen had -removed all his most ornamental teeth, and had -given the oddest set to the lower part of his countenance. -It was after Kolin that, the sight of his -left eye being suppressed by the butt end of a -lance, he had started that black patch which imparted -a peculiar ferocity to his aspect, although -it seemed, it is true, to sharpen the piercing qualities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -of the remaining orb. At Hochkirch, where -he culled some of his greenest laurels, a Prussian -bullet in his knee forced on him the companionship -of a stout staff for ever afterwards. He certainly -had been known in former days as <i>le beau -Jennico</i>, but of its original cast of feature it is easy -to conceive that, after these repeated finishing -touches, his countenance bore but little trace.</p> - -<p>“But no,” the dear old man would say, baring -his desolate lower tusks at me, and fixing me with -his wild-boar eye, “it is not to my beauty, Kerl, -not to my courage, Kerl, that I owe success, but -because I am geborn Jennico. When man Jennico -geborn is, man is geborn to all the rest—to -the beauty, to the bravery. When I wooed -your late dead tante, they, mere ignorant Poles, -said to me: ’It is well. You are honoured. We -know you honourable; but are you born? To -wed a Countess Woschutzski one must be born, -one must show, honoured sir,’ they said, ’at least -seize quartiers, attested in due proper form.’</p> - -<p>“‘Eh!’ said I, ’is that all? See you, you shall -have sixteen quarterings. Sixteen quarterings? -Bah! You shall have sixteen quarterings beyond -that, and then sixteen again; and you shall then -learn what it is called to be called Jennico!’—Potztausend!—And -I simply wrote to the Office<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -of Heralds in London, what man calls College of -Arms, for them to look up the records of Jennico -and draw out a right proper pedigree of the familie, -spare no cost, right up to the date of King -Knut! Eh? Oh, ei, ei! Kerlchen! You should -have seen the roll of parchment that was in time -gesendt—<i>Teremtété!</i> and <i>les yeux que fit monsieur -mon beau-père</i> [my excellent great-uncle said <i>mon -peau-bère</i>] when they were geopened to what it -means to be well-born English! A well-born man -never knows his blood as he should, until he sets -himself to trace it through all the veins. Blood-royal, -yunker, blood-royal! Once Danish, two -times Plantagenet, and once Stuart, but that a -strong dose—he-he, ei, ei! The Merry Monarch, -as the school-books say, had wide paternity, though—verstehts -sich—his daughter (who my grossmutter -became) was noble also by her mother. -Up it goes high, weit. Thou shalt see for thyself -when thou comest to Tollendhal. Na, ya, and -thou shalt study it too—it all runs in thine veins -also. Forget it not!... And of all her treasures, -your aunt would always tell me there was -none she prized more than that document relating -to our family. She had it unrolled upon her bed -when she could no longer use her limbs, and she -used to trace out, crying now and then, the poor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -soul, what her boy would have carried of honour if -he had lived. Ah, ’twas a million pities she never -bore me another!—’tis the only reproach that darf -be made her.... I have consoled myself hitherto -with the thought of my nephew’s youthling; but, -Potzblitz, this Edmund, now the head of our family—ach, -the verdamned hound! Tausend Donnern -and Bomben!”—and my great-uncle’s guttural -voice would come rumbling, like gathering thunder -indeed, and rise to a frightful bellow—“to barter -his fine old name for the verdamned mummery of a -Baron Rainswick—Rainswick?—pooh! A creation -of this Hanover dog! And what does he -give on his side to drive this fine bargain? Na, -na, sprech to me not: I mislike it; nephew, I tell -thee, I doubt me but there is something hinter it -yet.</p> - -<p>“Nephew Basil,” he then went on, this day I -speak of, “if I were not seventy-three years old -I would marry again—I would, to have an heir, -by Heaven! that the true race might not die out!”</p> - -<p>And despite his wall-eye, his jaw, his game leg, -his generally disastrous aspect, I believe he might -have been as good as his threat, his seventy-and-three -years notwithstanding. But what really deterred -him from such a rash step was his belief -(although he would not gratify me by saying so)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -that there was at hand as good a Jennico as he -could wish for, and that one, myself, Basil. And he -saw in me a purer sproutling of that noble island -race of the north that he was so fiercely proud -of, than he could have produced by a marriage -with a foreigner. For, thorough “Imperial” as -he now was, and notwithstanding his early foreign -education (which had begun in the Stuart regiments -of the French king), the dominant thought -in the old warrior’s brain was that a very law of -nature required the gentle-born sons of such a -country to be honoured as leaders among foreign -men. And great was the array of names he could -summon, should any one be rash enough to challenge -the assertion. Butlers and Lallys, Brownes -and Jerninghams, by Gad! Keiths and Dillons -and Berwicks, <i>morbleu</i>! Fermors, Loudons, and -Lacys, and how many more if necessary; ay, and -Jennicos not the least of them, I should hope, -<i>teremtété</i>!</p> - -<p>I did not think that my brother had bettered -himself by the change, and still less could I concur -in the turn-coat policy he had thought fit to -adopt in order to buy from a Hanoverian King -and a bigoted House of Lords this accession of -honour. For my uncle was not far wrong in his -suspicions, and in truth it did not require any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -strong perspicacity to realise that it was not for -nothing my brother was thus distinguished. I -mean not for his merits—which amounts to -the same thing. I made strong efforts to keep -the tidings of his cowardly defection from my -uncle. But family matters were not, as I have -said, to be hidden from Feldmarschall Edmund -von Jennico. I believe the news hastened his -dissolution. Repeated fits of anger are pernicious -to gouty veterans of explosive temper. It -was barely three weeks after the arrival of the -tidings of my brother having taken the oaths and -his seat in the House of Lords that I was summoned -by a messenger, hot foot, from the little -frontier town where I was quartered with my -squadron, to attend my great-uncle’s death-bed. -It was a sixteen-hours’ ride through the snow. I -reached this frowning old stronghouse late at -night, hastened by a reminder at each relay ready -prepared for me; hastened by the servants stationed -at the gate; hastened on the stairs, at -his very door, the door of this room. I found -him sitting in his armchair, almost a corpse already, -fully conscious, grimly triumphant.</p> - -<p>“Thou shalt have it all,” was the first thing he -whispered to me as I knelt by his side. His voice -was so low that I had to bend my ear to his mouth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -But the pride of race had never seemed to burn -with brighter flame. “Alles ist dein, alles ... -aber,” and he caught at me with his clawlike -hand, cold already with the very chill of earth, -“remember that thou the last Jennico bist. -Royal blood, Kerlchen, Knut, Plantagenet, Stuart -... noblesse oblige, remember. Bring no roturière -into the family.”</p> - -<p>His heiduck, who had endured his testy temper -and his rigid rule for forty years, suddenly gave -a kind of gulp, like a sob, from behind the chair -where he stood, rigid, on duty at his proper post, -but with his hands, instead of resting correctly -on hip and sword-handle, joined in silent prayer. -A striking-looking man, for all his short stature, -with his extraordinary breadth of shoulders, his -small piercing eyes, his fantastically hard features -all pock-seared, that seemed carved out of some -swarthy, worm-eaten old oak.</p> - -<p>“Thou fool!” hissed my uncle, impatiently -turning his head at the sound, and making a -vain attempt to seek the ever-present staff with -his trembling fingers. “Basil, crack me the -knave on the skull.” Then he paused a moment, -looked at the clock and said in a significant way, -“It is time, János.”</p> - -<p>The heiduck instantly moved and left the room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -to return promptly, ushering in a number of the -retainers who had evidently been gathered together -and kept in attendance against my arrival.</p> - -<p>They ranged themselves silently in a row behind -János; and the dying man in a feeble voice -and with the shadow of a gesture towards me, -but holding them all the while under his piercing -look, said two or three times:</p> - -<p>“Your master, men, your master.” Whereupon, -János leading the way, every man of -them, household-steward, huntsmen, overseers, -foresters, hussars, came forward, kissed my hand, -and retired in silence.</p> - -<p>Then the end came rapidly. He wandered in -his speech and was back in the past with dead -and gone comrades. At the very last he rallied -once more, fixed me with his poor eye that I -had never seen dim before, and spoke with consciousness:</p> - -<p>“Thou, the last Jennico, remember. Be true. -Tell the renegade I rejoice, his shame striketh not -us. Tell him that he did well to change his name. -Kerlchen, dear son, thou art young and strong, -breed a fine stock. No roture! but sell and -settle ... sell and settle.”</p> - -<p>Those words came upon his last sigh. His eye -flashed once, and then the light was extinguished.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> - -<p>Thus he passed. His dying thought was for -the worthy continuance of his race. I found -myself the possessor, so the tabellions informed -me some days later, of many millions (reckoned -by the florins of this land) besides the great property -of Tollendhal—fertile plains as well as wild -forests, and of this same isolated frowning castle -with its fathom-thick walls, its odd pictures of -half-savage dead and gone Woschutzskis, its antique -clumsy furniture, tapestries, trophies of -chase and war; master, moreover, of endless -tribes of dependants: heiducks and foresters; -females of all ages, whose bare feet in summer -patter oddly on the floors like the tread of animals, -whose high-boots in winter clatter perpetually on -the stone flags of stairs and corridors; serf-peasants, -factors, overseers; the strangest mixture of -races that can be imagined: Slovacks, Bohemians, -Poles, to labour on the glebe; Saxons or Austrians -to rule over them and cypher out rosters and returns; -Magyars, who condescend to manage my -horseflesh and watch over my safety if nothing -else; the travelling bands of gipsies, ever changing -but never failing with the dance, the song and -the music, which is as indispensable as salt to the -life of that motley population.</p> - -<p>And I, who in a more rational order of things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -might have been leading the life of a young squire -at home, became sovereign lord of all, wielding -feudal power over strings of vassals who deemed it -great honour to bend the knee before me and kiss -my hand.</p> - -<p>No doubt, in the beginning, it was vastly fine; -especially as so much wealth meant freedom. For -my first act, on my return after the expiration of -my furlough, was to give up the duties of regimental -life, irksome and monotonous in these -piping days of peace. Then I must hie me to -Vienna, and there, for the first time of my life of -six-and-twenty years, taste the joy of independence. -In Vienna are enough of dashing sparks -and beautiful women, of princes and courtiers, -gamblers and rakes, to teach me how to spend -some of my new-found wealth in a manner suitable -to so fashionable a person as myself.</p> - -<p>But how astonishingly soon one accustoms oneself -to luxury and authority! It is but three -months ago that, having drained the brimming -cup of pleasure to the dregs, I found its first -sweetness cloying, its first alluring sparkle almost -insufferable; that, having basked in perpetual -smiles, I came to weary of so much favour. Winning -at play had no fascination for a man with -some thirty thousand pounds a year at his back;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -and losing large slices of that patrimony which -had, I felt, been left me under an implied trust, -was dully galling to my conscience. I was so uniformly -fortunate also in the many duels in which I -was involved among the less favoured—through -the kindness which the fair ladies of Vienna and -Bude began to show to <i>le beau Jennico</i> (the old -dictum had been revived in my favour)—that -after disabling four of my newly-found “best -friends,” even so piquant an entertainment lost -all pretence of excitement.</p> - -<p>And with the progress of disillusion concerning -the pleasure of idleness in wealth, grew more -pressing the still small voice which murmured at -my ear that it was not for such an end, not for -the gratification of a mere libertine, gambler, and -duellist, that my great-uncle Jennico had selected -me as the depositary of his wealth and position.</p> - -<p>“Sell and settle, sell and settle.” The old -man’s words had long enough been forgotten. It -was high time to begin mastering the intricacies -of that vast estate, if ever I was to turn it to the -profit of that stream of noble Jennicos to come. -And in my state of satiety the very remoteness of -my new property, its savageness, its proud isolation, -invested it with an odd fascination. From -one day to the other I determined on departure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -and left the emptiness of the crowd to seek the -fulness of this wild and beautiful country.</p> - -<p>Here for a time I tasted interest in life again; -knew a sort of well-filled peace; felt my soul expand -with renewed vigour, keenness for work and -deeds, hope and healthy desire, self-pride and satisfaction. -Then came the foolish adventure which -has left me naked and weak in the very midst of -my wealth and power; which has left rudderless -an existence that had set sail so gaily for glorious -happiness.</p> - -<p class="p2">The bell of the horologe, from its snow-capped -turret overlooking the gate of honour in the -stronghold of Tollendhal, slowly tolled the tenth -hour of that tempestuous night; and the notes -resounded in the room, now strongly vibrating, -now faint and distant, as the wind paused for a -second, or bore them away upon its dishevelled -wing. Upon the last stroke, as Basil Jennico -was running over the last page of his fair paper, -the door behind him, creaking on its hinges, was -thrown open by János, the heiduck, displaying in -the next chamber a wide table, lit by two six-branched -chandeliers and laid for the evening -meal. The twelve yellow tongues of flame glinted -on the silver, the cut glass, and the snow-white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -napery, but only to emphasise the sombre depth of -the mediæval room, the desolate eloquence of that -solitary seat at the huge board. János waited till -his master, with weary gesture, had cast his pen -aside, and then ceremoniously announced that his -lordship’s supper was ready.</p> - -<p>Impatiently enough did the young man dip his -fingers in the aiguière of perfumed water that a -damsel on his right offered to him as he passed -through the great doors, drying them on the cloth -handed by another on his left. Frowning he sat -him down in his high-backed chair behind which -the heiduck stood ready to present each dish as -it was brought up by other menials, to keep the -beaker constantly filled, to answer with a bow any -observation that he might make, should the lord -feel disposed to break silence.</p> - -<p>But to-night the Lord of Tollendhal was less disposed -than ever in such a direction. He chafed -at the long ceremony; resented the presence of -these creatures who had seen her sit as their mistress -at that table, where now lay nought but -vacancy beyond the white cloth; resented even -the silent solicitude that lurked in János’s eyes, -though the latter never broke unauthorised his -rule of silence.</p> - -<p>The generous wine, in the stillness and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -black solitude, bred presently a yet deeper melancholy. -After a perfunctory meal the young man -waved aside a last glass of the amber Tokay that -was placed at his hand, rose, and moodily walked to -and fro for some time. Feeling that the coming -hours had no sleep in reserve for a mind in such -turmoil as his, he returned to his writing-table, -and, whilst János directed the servants to bring in -and trim fresh candles, and pile more logs upon -the hearth, Basil Jennico resumed his task.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER II</h2> - -<p class="pch"><span class="smcap">Basil Jennico’s Memoir continued</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">My</span> great-uncle’s will, forcible, concise, indisputable -as it was, had been (so the man of law informed -me) drawn out in a great hurry, dictated, -indeed, between spasms of agony and rage. (The -poor old man died of gout in his stomach.) -Doubtless, had he felt sure of more time, he -would have burdened the inheritance with many -directions and conditions.</p> - -<p>From his broken utterances, however, and from -what I had known of him in life, I gathered a fair -idea of what his wishes were. His fifty years of -foreign service had filled him, old pandour that he -seemed to have become, with but increased contempt -for the people that surrounded him, their -ways and customs, while his pride as an Englishman -was only equalled by his pride as a Jennico.</p> - -<p>“Sell and settle....”</p> - -<p>The meaning of the words was clear in the light -of the man as I knew him. I was to sell the -great property, carry to England the vast hoard of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -foreign wealth, marry as befitted one of the race, -and raise a new and splendid line of Jennicos, to -the utter mortification, and everlasting confusion, -of the degenerate head of the house.</p> - -<p>Now, though I knew it to be in me, and felt it, -indeed, not otherwise possible, to live my life as -true a Jennico as even my uncle could desire, I by -no means deemed it incumbent upon me to set to -work and carry out his plans without first employing -my liberty and wealth as the humour prompted -me. Nor was the old country an overpoweringly -attractive place for a young man of my creed and -kidney. In Vienna I was, perhaps, for the moment, -the most noted figure—the guest most -sought after that year. In England, at daggers -drawn with my brother, I could only play an -everyday part in an unpopular social minority.</p> - -<p>It was in full summer weather that, as I have -written, already tried by the first stage of my -career of wealth, I came to take possession of my -landed estates. The beauty and wildness of the -scenery, the strangeness of the life in the well-nigh -princely position to which this sudden turn of -fortune’s wheel had elevated me, the intoxicating -sensation of holding sway, as feudal lord of these -wide tracts of hill and plain, over so many hundreds -of lives—above all, the wholesome reaction<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -brought about by solitude and communion with -nature after the turmoil of the last months—in -short, everything around me and in me made me -less inclined than ever to begin ridding myself of -so fair a possession.</p> - -<p>And do I wish I had not thus delayed in obeying -the injunction that accompanied the bequest? -Odds my life! I am a miserable dog this day -through my disobedience; and yet, would I now -undo the past if I could? A thousand times no! -I hate my folly, but hug it, ever closer, ever -dearer. The bitter savour of that incomprehensible -yearning clings to the place: I would not -exchange it for the tameness of peace. Weakling -that I am, I would not obliterate, if I could, the -memory of those brief, brief days of which I failed -to know the price, until the perversity of fate cut -their thread for ever—ay, perhaps for ever, after -all! And yet, if so, it were wiser to quit these -haunted walls for ever also. But, God! how -meagre and livid looks wisdom, the ghost, by the -side of love’s warm and living line!</p> - -<p>And now, on! Since I have put my hand to -the task, undertaken to set forth and make clear -the actual condition of that vacillating puppet, the -new-fledged Lord of Tollendhal, I will not draw it -back, cost me what pain it may.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> - -<p>No doubt it was this haunting pride of wealth, -waxing every day stronger, even as the pride of -birth which my great-uncle had fostered to such -good purpose, the overweening conceit which they -bred within me, that fogged my better judgment -and brought me to this pass. And no doubt, -likewise, it is a princely estate that these lords -of Tollendhal of old carved for themselves, and -rounded ever wider and nurtured—all that it -should some day, passing through the distaff, -come to swell the pride of Suffolk Jennicos!</p> - -<p>My castle rises boldly on the northernmost spur -of the Glatzer Mounts, and defiantly overlooks the -marches of three kingdoms. Its lands and dependencies, -though chiefly Moravian, extend over the -Bohemian border as well as into that Silesia they -now are able to call Prussian. North and west it -is flanked by woods that grow wilder, denser, as -they spread inwards towards the Giant Mountains. -On the southern slopes are my vineyards, -growths of note, as I hear. My territories reach, -on the one hand, farther than can be seen under -the blue horizon, into the Eastern plains, flat and -rich, that stretch with curious suddenness immediately -at the foot of the high district; upon the -other hand, on the Moravian side, I doubt whether -even my head steward himself knows exactly how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -much of the timber-laden hill-ranges can be claimed -as appertaining to the estate. All the peaks I can -descry in a fine day from these casements are -mine, I believe; on their flanks are forests as rich -in game—boar and buck, wolf and bear, not to -speak of lesser quarry—as are the plains below -in corn and maize and cattle—<i>que sais-je?</i> A -goodly heritage indeed!</p> - -<p>I promised myself many a rare day’s sport so -soon as the time waxed ripe. Meanwhile, my -days were spent in rambles over the land, under -pretence of making acquaintance with the farms -and the villages, and the population living on the -soil and working out its wealth for my use, but -in reality for the enjoyment of delicious sylvan -and rustic idleness through which the memory of -recent Viennese dissipations was like that of a -fevered dream.</p> - -<p>The spirit of my country-keeping ancestors -lived again within me and was satisfied. Yet -there were times, too, when this freedom of fancy -became loneliness—when my eyes tired of green -trees, and my ears hungered for the voice of some -human being whom I could meet as an equal, with -whom I could consort, soul and wit. Then I -would resolve that, come the autumn, I would fill -the frowning stronghouse with a rousing throng<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -of gallant hunters and fair women such as it had -never seen before. Ay, and they should come -over, even from old England, to taste of the Jennico -hospitality!</p> - -<p>It was in one of these glorious moods that, -upon a September day, sultry as summer, although -there was a touch of autumn decay in the -air as well as in the tints around me, I sallied -forth, after noon, to tramp on foot an as yet unexplored -quarter of my domain. I had donned, -according to my wont (as being more suitable to -the roughness of the paths than the smallclothes, -skirted coats, high heels and cocked hat of Viennese -fashion), the dress of the Moravian peasant—I -gather that it pleases the people’s heart to -see their seigneur grace their national garb on -occasions. There was a goodly store of such costumes -among the cupboards full of hereditary -habiliments and furs preserved at Tollendhal, -after the fashion of the country, with the care -that English housewives bestow upon their stores -of linen. My peasant suit was, of course, fine of -cloth and natty of cut, and the symmetry of the -handsome figure I saw in my glass reminded me -more of the pastoral disguises that were the -courtly fashion of some years back than of our -half-savage ill-smelling boors. Thus it was pleasant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -as well as comfortable to wear, and at that -time even so trifling a sensation of gratified vanity -had its price. But, although thus freed of the -incumbrance of a gentleman’s attire, I could not -shake off the watchful tyranny of János, the solemn -heiduck who never allowed me to stir abroad -at all without his escort, nor, indeed (if my whim -took me far afield), without the further retinue -of two jägers, twin brothers, and faithful beyond a -doubt. These, carbine on shoulder, and hanger -on thigh, had their orders to follow their lord -through thick and thin, and keep within sight and -sound of whistle.</p> - -<p>In such odd style of state, on this day, destined -to begin for me a new chapter in life, I took my -course; and for a long hour or so walked along -the rocky cornice that overhangs the plains. The -land looked bare and wide and solitary, the fields -lay in sallow leanness bereft of waving crops, but -I knew that all my golden grain was stacked -safely in the heart of the earth, where these folk -hoard its fruits for safety from fire. The air was -so empty of human sounds, save the monotonous -tramp of my escort behind me, that all the murmurs -of wind and foliage struck with singular -loudness upon my ear. Over night, there had, by -my leave, been songs and dancing in the courtyard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -of Tollendhal, and the odd tunes, the capricious -rhythm of the gipsy musicians, came back -upon me as I walked in the midst of my thoughts. -These melodies are fitful and plaintive as the -sounds of nature itself, they come hurrying and -slackening, rising and falling, with as true a harmony -and as unmeasured a measure,—now in a -very passion of haste, and now with a dreamy -long-drawn sigh. I was thinking on this, and on -the love of the Empress for that music (my Empress -that had been when I wore her uniform, ay, -and my Empress still so long as I retain these -noble lands), when I came to a field, sloping from -the crag towards the plain, where an aftermath of -grass had been left to dry. There was a little belt -of trees, which threw a grateful shade; and feeling -something weary I flung me down on the -scented hay. It was on the Silesian portion of -my land. Against the horizon, the white and -brown of some townlet, clustering round the ace-of-club-shaped -roof of its church-tower, rose glittering -above the blue haze. A little beyond the -field ran a white road. So I reclined, looking -vaguely into the unknown but inviting distance, -musing on the extent of those possessions so wide-spread -that I had not as yet been able to ride all -their marches, ever and anon recognising vaguely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -in the voice of the breeze through the foliage an -echo of the music that had been haunting my -thoughts all day. Everything conspired to bring -me pleasant fancies. I began to dream of past -scenes and future fortunes, smiling at the thought -of what my dashing friends would say if they saw -<i>le beau Jennico</i> in this bucolic attitude, wondering -if any of my Court acquaintances would recognise -him in his peasant garb.</p> - -<p>Ah me, how eternally and lovingly I thought -of my proud and brilliant self then!...</p> - -<p>I cannot recall how soon this musing became -deep sleep, but sleep I did and dream—a singular, -vivid dream, which was in a manner a continuation -of my waking thoughts. I seemed to be at a -great <i>fête</i> at the Imperial Palace, one of the countless -throng of guests. The lights were brilliant, -blinding, but I saw many faces I knew, and we -all were waiting most eagerly for some wonderful -event. No one was speaking, and the only sounds -were the rustling and brushing of the ladies’ brocades -and the jingle of the officers’ spurs, with -over and above the wail of the czimbalom. All -at once I knew, as we do in dreams, what we -were expecting, and why this splendid feast had -been prepared. Marie Antoinette, the fair young -Dauphine of France, the memory of whose grace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -still hangs about the Court, had come back to visit -her own country. The crowd grew closer and -closer. The crowd about me surged forward to -catch a glimpse of her as she passed, and I with -the rest, when suddenly my great-uncle stood before -me, immensely bestarred and beribboned in -his field-marshal’s uniform, and with the black -patch on his eye so black that it quite dazzled me.</p> - -<p>“Na, Kerlchen,” he was saying to me, “thou -hast luck! Her Imperial and Royal Highness has -chosen the young Jennico to dance with ... as -the old one is too old.”</p> - -<p>Now I, in common with the young men about -me, have grown to cherish since my coming to -this land a strange enthusiasm for the most -womanly and beautiful of all the Empress’s daughters, -and therefore, even in my dream, my heart -began to beat very fast, and I scarce knew which -way to turn. I was much troubled too by the -music, which went on always louder and quicker -above my head, somewhere in the air, for I knew -that no such things as country dances are danced -at Court, and that I myself would make but a poor -figure in such; yet a peasant dance it undoubtedly -was. Next, my uncle was gone, and though I -could not see her, I knew the Princess was coming -by the swish of her skirt as she walked. I heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -her voice as clear as a silver bell. “<i>Où est-il?</i>” -it said, and I felt she was looking for me. I struggled -in vain to answer or turn to her, and the voice -cried again: “<i>Où est-il?</i>” upon which another -voice with a quaver in its tones made reply: “<i>Par -ici, Altesse!</i>”</p> - -<p>The sound must have been very close to me, for -it startled me from my deep sleep into, as it were, -an outer court of dreams. And between slumber -and consciousness I became aware that I was lying -somewhere very hot and comfortable; that, while -some irresistible power kept my eyes closed, my -ears were not so, and I could hear the two voices -talking together; and, in my wandering brain believed -them still to belong to the Princess Marie -Antoinette and her attendant.</p> - -<p>“It is a peasant,” said the first voice: that was -the Princess of course. There was something of -scorn in the tone, and I became acutely and unpleasantly -conscious of my red embroidered shirt. -But the other made answer: “He is handsome,” -and then: “His hands are not those of a peasant,” -and, “<i>Regardez ma chère</i>; peasants do not wear -such jewelled watches!” A sudden shadow fell -over me and was gone in an instant. There was a -flicker of laughter and I sat up.</p> - -<p>During my sleep the shade of the sun had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -shifted and I lay in the full glare, and so, as I -opened my eyes, I could see nothing.</p> - -<p>I heard the laughter of my dream again, and I -knew that the mocking cry of “<i>Prenez garde, -Altesse!</i>” that still rang in the air did not belong -to my sleep. But as I rubbed my eyes and looked -out once again, I caught first a glimpse of a -slender creature bending over me, outlined it -seemed in fire and shimmering between black and -gold. My next glance filled me with a woeful disappointment, -for I declare, what with my dream -and my odd awakening, I expected to find before -me a beauty no less bewitching than that of her -Royal Highness herself. What I beheld was but -a slim slip of a creature who, from the tip of her -somewhat battered shepherdess hat to the hem of -her loosely hanging skirts, gave me an impression -of being all yellow, save for the dark cloud of her -hair. Her skin seemed golden yellow like old -ivory, her eyes seemed to shoot yellow sparks, her -gown was yellow as any primrose. As she bent -to watch me, her lip was arched into a smile; it -had a deep dimple on the left side. Thus I saw -her in a sort of flash and scrambled to my feet -still half drunk with drowsiness, crying out like -a fool:</p> - -<p>“<i>Où est son Altesse? Où est son Altesse?</i>”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> - -<p>She clapped her hands and turned with a crow -of laughter to some one behind me. And then I -became aware that, as in the dream, there were -two. I also turned.</p> - -<p>My eyes were in their normal state again, but -for a moment I thought myself still wandering. -Here was her Highness. A Princess, indeed, as -beautiful as any vision and yet most exquisitely -embodied in the flesh; a Princess in this wilderness! -It seemed a thing impossible, and yet my -eyes now only corroborated the evidence of my -ears.</p> - -<p>I marked, almost without knowing, the rope -of pearls that bound her throat (I had become -a judge of jewels by being the possessor of so -many). I marked her garments, garments, for all -their intended simplicity, rich, and bearing to my -not untutored observation the latest stamp of fashion. -But above all I marked her air of race, her -countenance, young with the first bloom of youth, -mantled with blushes yet set with a royal dignity.</p> - -<p>I have, since that eventful day, passed through -so many phases of feeling, sweet and violent, my -present sentiments are so fantastically disturbed, -that I must try to the last of this writing and -see matters still as I saw them at the time. Yes, -beyond doubt what I noticed most, what appealed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -to me most deeply then, was the great air of race -blended and softened by womanly candour and -grace. She looked at me gravely, with wide brown -eyes, and I stumbled into my best courtly bow.</p> - -<p>“He wants to know,” said the damsel of the -yellow skirts, this time in German, the clear, clean -utterance of which had nothing of the broad Austrian -sounds I was accustomed to hear—“he -wants to know ’where is the Highness?’ But he -seems to have guessed where she stands, without -the telling. Truly ’tis a pity the Lord Chamberlain -is not at his post to make a presentation in -due form!”</p> - -<p>The lady thus addressed took a step towards -her companion, with what seemed a protest on her -lip. But the latter, her small face quivering with -mischief and eagerness, whispered something in -her ear, and the beautiful brown eyes fixed themselves -once again smilingly on me.</p> - -<p>“Know, sir,” continued the speaker then, “since -you are so indiscreet as to wake at the wrong -moment, and surprise an incognito, the mysteries -of which were certainly not meant for such as -you, that Altesse she is. <i>Son Altesse Sérénissime -la Princesse Marie Ottilie.</i> Marie is her Highness’s -first name, and Ottilie is her Highness’s -last name. And between the two and after those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -two, being as I said an Altesse Sérénissime, she -has of course a dozen other names; but more than -this it does not suit her Highness that you should -know. Now if you will do me, a humble attendant -that I am, the courtesy to state who you are, -who, in a Silesian boor’s attire, speak French and -wear diamond watches to your belt, I can proceed -with the introduction, even in the absence of the -Lord Chamberlain.”</p> - -<p>The minx had an easy assurance of manner -which could only have been bred at Court. Her -mistress listened to her with what seemed a tolerant -affection.</p> - -<p>Looking round, bewildered and awkwardly conscious -of my peasant dress, I beheld my two chasseurs, -standing stolidly sentinel on the exact spot -where I had last seen them before dropping asleep. -Old János, from a nearer distance, watched us suspiciously. -As I thus looked round I became aware -of a new feature in the landscape—a ponderous -coach also attended by two chasseurs in unknown -uniforms waiting some hundred paces off, down -the road.</p> - -<p>To keep myself something in countenance despite -my incongruous garb (and also perchance -for the little meanness that I was not displeased -to show this Princess that I too kept a state of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -my own), I lifted my hand and beckoned to my -retinue, which instantly advanced and halted in a -rank with rigid precision five paces behind me.</p> - -<p>“Gracious madam,” said I in German, bowing -to her who had dubbed herself the lady-in-waiting, -with a touch, I flattered myself, of her own light -mockery of tone, “I shall indeed feel honoured if -her Serene Highness will deign to permit the -presentation of so unimportant a person as myself—in -other words of Basil Jennico of Farringdon -Dane, in the county of Suffolk, in the Kingdom of -Great Britain, lately a captain in his Royal Imperial -Majesty’s Moravian Regiment of Chevau-Legers, -now master of the Castle of Tollendhal, -not far distant, and lord of its domain.” Here, -led by János, my three retainers saluted.</p> - -<p>I thought I saw in the Princess’s eyes that I -had created a certain impression, but my consequent -complacency did not escape the notice of -the irrepressible lady-in-waiting. She promptly -did her best to mar the situation.</p> - -<p>“Fi donc,” she cried, in French, “we are at -Court, Monsieur, and at the Court of—at the -Court of her Highness we are not such savages -as to perform introductions in German.”</p> - -<p>Then, drawing up her slight figure and composing -her face into preternatural gravity, she took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -two steps forward and another sideways, accompanied -by as many bows, and resting her hand at -arm’s length on the china head of her stick, with -the most ridiculous assumption of finikin importance -and with a quavering voice which, although -I have never known him, I recognised instantly as -the Chamberlain’s, she announced:</p> - -<p>“Monsieur Basile Jean Nigaud de la Faridondaine, -dans le comté où l’on Suffoque, ... d’importance, -au royaume de la Grande Bretagne, -maître du Castel des Fous, ici proche, et seigneur -des alentours,—ahem!”</p> - -<p>Inwardly cursing the young woman’s buffoonery -and the incredible facility with which she had so -instantly burlesqued an undoubtedly impressive recital, -I had no choice but to make my three bows -with what good grace I could muster. Whereupon, -the Princess, still smiling but with a somewhat puzzled -air, made me a curtsey. As for the lady-in-waiting, -nothing abashed, she took an imaginary -pinch of most excellent snuff with a pretence of high -satisfaction; then laughed aloud and long, till my -ears burned and her own dimple literally rioted.</p> - -<p>“And now, to complete the ceremony,” said -she, as soon as she could speak at all, “let me -introduce the Court, represented to-day by myself. -Mademoiselle Marie Ottilie. Two Ottilies as you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -will perceive, but easily explained, thus: Feu the -Highest her Sérénissime’s gracious ducal grandmother -being an Ottilie and godmother to us both—Mademoiselle -Ottilie: the rest concerns you not. -Well, Monsieur de la Faridondaine, Capitaine et -Seigneur, etc., etc.,—charmed to have made your -acquaintance. So far, so good. But ... these -gentlemen? Surely also nobles in disguise. Will -you not continue the ceremony?”</p> - -<p>She waved a little sunburnt hand towards my -immovable body-guard, and the full absurdity of -my position struck me with the keenest sense -of mortification.</p> - -<p>I looked back at the three, biting my lips, and -miserably uncertain how to conduct myself so as -to save some shred of dignity. My ancient János -had seen too many strange things during his forty -years’ attendance on my great-uncle to betray -the smallest surprise at the present singular situation; -but out of both their handsome faces, set -like bronze,—they had better not have moved -a muscle otherwise or János would have known -the reason why,—the eyes of my twin attendants -roamed from me to the ladies, and from the -ladies to me, with the most devouring curiosity. -I tartly dismissed them all again to a distance, -and then, turning to the mysterious Princess I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -begged to know, in my most courtlike manner -if I might presume to lay my services at her feet -for the time of her sojourn in this, my land.</p> - -<p>With the same adorable yet dignified bashfulness -that I had already noted in her, the lovely -woman looked hesitatingly at her lady-in-waiting, -which lively wench, not being troubled with timidity -(as she had already sufficiently demonstrated), -promptly took upon herself to answer me. But -this time she so delightfully fell in with my own -wishes that I was fain to forgive her all that had -gone before.</p> - -<p>“But certainly,” she exclaimed, “her Serene -Highness will condescend to accept the services -of M. de Jean Nigaud. It is not every day that -brings forth such romantic encounters. Know, -sir, that we are two damozels that have by the -most extraordinary succession of fortunate accidents -escaped from school. You wonder? By -school, I mean the insupportable tedium, etiquette, -and dulness of the Court of his most -gracious and worshipful Serenity the father of -her Highness. We came out this noon to make -hay, and hay we will make. Or rather we shall -sit on the hay, and you shall make a throne for -the Princess, and a little tabouret for me, and then -you may sit you down and entertain us ... but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -on the ground, and at a respectful distance, that -none may say we do not observe proper forms -and conventions, for all that we are holiday-making. -And you shall explain to us how you, -an Englishman, came to be master of Château -des Fous, and masquerading in peasant’s attire. -Is masquerading a condition of tenure? After -which, her Serene Highness having only one -fault, that being her angelic softness of heart, -which is pushed to the degree of absolute weakness, -she will permit me to narrate to you (as -much as is good for you to know) how we came -to be here at such a distance from our own country, -and in such curious freedom—for her Highness -quite sees that you are rapidly becoming -ill with suppressed curiosity, and fears that you -may otherwise burst with it on your way home -to your great castle, or at least that the pressure -on the brain may seriously affect its delicate -balance—if indeed,” with a peal of her reckless -childish laughter, “you are not already a lunatic, -and those your keepers!”</p> - -<p>This last piece of impudence might have proved -even too much for my desire to cultivate an acquaintance -so extraordinarily attractive to one of -my turn of mind and so alluring by its mysteriousness, -but that I happened to catch a glance from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -her Highness’s eyes even as the speaker finished -her tirade, which glance, deprecating and at the -same time full of a kindly and gentle interest, -set my heart to beat in a curious fashion between -pleasure and pain. I hastened therefore to obey -the younger lady’s behests, and began to gather -together enough of the sweet-smelling hay to form -a throne for so noble and fair an occupant.</p> - -<p>Whereupon the little creature herself—she -seemed little by reason of her slenderness and -childishness, but in truth she was as tall as her -tall and beautiful mistress—fell to helping me -with such right good-will, flashing upon me, as she -flitted hither and thither, such altogether innocently -mocking looks from her yellow-hazel eyes, -that I should have been born with a deeper vanity, -and a sourer temper, to have kept a grudge against -her.</p> - -<p>Once seated in our fragrant court, in the order -laid down for us, the attendant, so soon as she had -recovered breath sufficient, began to ply me with -questions so multiplied, so searching, and so -pointed, that she very soon extracted from me -every detail she wished to know about myself, past -and present.</p> - -<p>But although, as from a chartered and privileged -advocate, the sharp cross-questioning came from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -the Mademoiselle Marie Ottilie, it was to the soft -dumb inquiry I read in the Princess Marie Ottilie’s -eyes that were addressed my answers. And then -those eyes and the listening beauty of that gracious -face, made it hard for me to realise, as later reflection -proved, that their owner did not utter a single -word during the whole time we sat there together.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER III</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">I mind</span> me that when she had drawn from me -all she had wanted to know, the little lady’s pert -tongue became still for a while, and that she -stretched her long young limbs and lay back upon -her mound of hay with the most absolute unconcern -either of my presence or of the Princess’s, -gazing skyward with a sudden gravity in her look. -As for me, I was content to sit in silence too, glad -of the quiet, because it gave me leisure to taste the -full zest of this fortunate and singular meeting. I -thought I had never seen a human being whom -silence became so well as the Princess Ottilie. -Contrasted with the recklessness and chatter of -her companion her attitude struck me as the most -perfectly dignified it had ever been my lot to observe.</p> - -<p>Presently the nymph in yellow roused herself -from her reverie, and sat up, with her battered hat -completely on one side and broken bits of grass -sticking in the tangled mass of her brown hair. -She arched her lip at me with her malicious smile, -and addressed her companion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Is it your Highness’s pleasure,” she asked, -“that I should gratify some of this young English -nobleman’s curiosity concerning the wandering of -a Princess in so unprincely a fashion?”</p> - -<p>“Ach!” rebuked her Highness, on the wings of -a soft sigh. The truth of the girl’s assertion that -her mistress’s kindness of heart amounted to weakness, -was very patent; the dependant was undoubtedly -indulged to the verge of impertinence, although -it is also true that her manner seemed to stop -short of any open show of disrespect.</p> - -<p>“Now attention, please, Monsieur de la Faridondaine! -His Most Absolutely to be Revered and -Most Gracious Serenity, father of her Highness, -reigns over a certain land, a great many leagues -from here,” she began, with all the gusto of one -who revels in the sound of her own voice. “Her -Highness is his only daughter, and this August -Person has the condescension to feel for her some -of those sentiments of paternal affection which are -common even to the lowest peasant. You have -been about Courts, Monsieur Jean Nigaud, the fact -is patent and indubitable. You can therefore -realise the extent of such condescension. A little -while ago, moved by these sentiments, my gracious -Sovereign believed there was a paleness upon her -Highness his daughter’s cheek.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - -<p>Involuntarily I looked at the Princess, to see, -with a curious elation, how the rich colour rushed, -under my gaze, yet more richly into her face.</p> - -<p>“It does not appear now,” pursued the imperturbable -speaker, whom no blink of mine seemed -to escape, “but there <i>was</i> a paleness, and the -Court doctor decided there was likewise a trifling -loss of tone and want of strength. He recommended -a change of air, tonic baths, and grape -cure. In consequence, after due deliberation and -consultation, it was decreed that her Highness -should be sent to a certain region in the mountains, -where Höchst die Selbe has a grand, a most high, -ducal aunt, the said region being noted for its -salubrious air, its baths, the quality and extent of -its vineyards. In company, therefore, of a few -indispensable court officials—the Lord Chamberlain -(as a responsible person for her Highness’s -movements), the most gracious a certain aged and -high born Gräfin (our chief Court lady, once the -Highness’s own gouvernante), the second Court -doctor, the third officier de bouche, and mine own -humble self——”</p> - -<p>Here she paused, and, with a sudden assumption -of dolefulness that was certainly comic, proceeded -in quite another voice:</p> - -<p>“I am a person of no consequence at Court,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -Monsieur de la Faridondaine. I am merely tolerated -because of her Highness’s goodness, and also -because, you must know, that I have a reputation -of being a source of amusement to her Serenity. -You may already have noticed that it is fairly well -founded that I am talkative and entertaining, as a -lady-in-waiting should be, and this is the reason -why I have attained a position to which my birth -does not entitle me.”</p> - -<p>A little frown came across the Princess’s smooth -brow at these words. She shot a look of deprecation -at her attendant, but the latter went on, -resuming her former manner, in a bubbling of -merriment:</p> - -<p>“Facts are facts, you see—I am even hardly -<i>born</i>. My mother happened to be liked by the -mother of her Serene Highness—an angel—and -when I was orphaned she took me closer to her. -So we grew up together, her Highness and I, -and so I come to be in so grand a place as a -Court. There, Monsieur, you have in a word the -history of Mademoiselle Marie Ottilie. I have no -wish that she should ever seem to have appeared -under false colours.”</p> - -<p>The Princess, whose sensitive blood had again -risen to a crimson tide, cast a very uneasy look -at her companion. I could see how much her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -affectionate delicacy was wounded by this unnecessary -candour.</p> - -<p>But little mademoiselle, after returning the -glance with one as mischievous and unfeeling as -a jackdaw’s, continued, hugging her knees with -every appearance of enjoyment:</p> - -<p>“And now we come to the series of delightful -accidents which brought us here. Behold! no -sooner had we left the Court of—the Court her -Highness belongs to—than the smallpox broke -out in the Residenz and in the palace itself. The -father of her Serenity had had it; there was no -danger for <i>him</i>, and he was in the act of congratulating -himself upon having sent the Princess -out of the way, when, in the most charming manner -(for the Ducal Court of her Highness’s aunt -was even duller than Höchst die Selbe’s own, and -after the tenth bunch of grapes you get rather -tired of a grape cure, and as for mud baths—oh -fie, the horror!), we discovered that we had -brought the pretty illness with us. And first one -and then the other of the retinue sickened and -fell ill. Then a Court lady of the Duchess took -it, and next who should develop symptoms but -the old growl-bear and scratch-cat, our own chief -Hofdame, chief duenna, and chief bore. That was -a stroke of fortune, you must admit! But wait<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -a moment, you have not heard the best of it -yet.”</p> - -<p>At the very first mention of the smallpox the -Princess grew pale, and made the sign of the -cross. And indeed it seemed to me, myself, a -tempting of Providence to joke thus lightly about -a malady so dangerous to life and so fatal to -looks. But the girl proceeded coolly:</p> - -<p>“Her Serene Highness, like her most venerated -brother, had had the disease; I believe they -underwent it together in their Serene Babyhood. -But her Serene Highness was deeply alarmed by -the danger to which her Serene niece was exposed. -The Court doctor was no less concerned—it -is a bad thing for a Court doctor if a princess -in his charge fall a victim to an epidemic—so -they put their heads together and resolved to send -the exalted young lady into some safer region, in -company of such of her retinue as seemed in the -soundest health. An aged lady, mother of M. de -Schreckendorf, our Chamberlain already described -to you, dwells in these plains. As a matter of -fact,” said the speaker, pointing a small finger in -the direction of the town, “her castle is yonder. -The Duchess had once condescended to spend a -night there to break a journey, and it had remained -stamped on her ducal memory that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -place was quiet,—not to say a desert,—that there -were vineyards close by, and also that the air was -particularly salubrious. She knew, too, that the -Countess Schreckendorf was quite equal to the -guarding of any youthful Serenity, in short, a -dragon of etiquette, narrow-mindedness, prudery, -and ugliness. Together, therefore, with the Chamberlain, -a few women, and the poor doctor, we -were packed into a ducal chariot, and carted here, -the Countess receiving the strictest orders not to -divulge the tremendous altitude of her visitor’s -rank. She would die rather than betray the trust,—especially -as to thwart innocent impulses is one -of her chief pleasures, nay, I may say her only -pleasure in life. Little does she or the Highness -her mistress suspect the existence of a Seigneur -de la Faridondaine, roaming about in the guise of -a simple Silesian shepherd and pretending to sleep -in order to surprise the little secrets of wandering -princesses! We were told, when we asked -whether there was no neighbourly creature within -reach, that the only one for leagues was a fearful -old man with one eye and one tooth, who goes -about using his cane as freely on every one’s shoulders -as the Prussian king himself. Well, never -mind, don’t speak, I have yet the cream of the -tale to offer! We arrived here three weeks ago<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -and found the grapes no more spicy, the castle no -more amusing, and the neighbourhood more boring -than even the ducal Court itself. But one excellent -day, the good little Chamberlain began to -look poorly, complained of his poor little head, -and retired to his room. The next morning what -does the doctor do, but pack <i>him</i> into a coach and -drive away with him like a fury. Neither coach, -nor postillions, nor doctor, nor Chamberlain, have -been seen or heard of since! But I, who am -awake with the birds, from my chamber window -saw them go—for I heard the clatter in the -courtyard, and by nature, M. the Captain, I am -as curious as a magpie.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that,” said I with conviction, “you need -not tell me!”</p> - -<p>She seemed vastly tickled by the frankness of -this my first observation after such long listening, -and had to throw herself back on the hay, and -laugh her laugh out, before she could sit up again -and continue:</p> - -<p>“So, as I was saying, I saw the departure. -The doctor looked livid with fright, and as for the -Herr Chamberlain, he was muffled up in blankets -and coats, but I got a glimpse of his face for all -that, and <i>it was spotted all over with great red -spots</i>!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Princess pushed her hat off her forehead, -and turned upon her lady-in-waiting a face that -had grown almost livid.</p> - -<p>“Pooh!” said the lady-in-waiting; “your Highness -is over-nervous; ’tis now a good fortnight -since the old gentleman left us, and if you or I -were to have had it we should have shown symptoms -long ago. Well, sir, to continue: our worthy -hostess the Countess was in a fine fume, as you -can fancy, between duty and natural affection, -terror and anxiety. She was by way of keeping -the whole matter a dead secret both from us and -from the servants; but the fumigations she set -going in the house, the airing, the dosing, together -with her own frantic demeanour, would have been -enough to enlighten even obtuser wits than ours. -With one exception all our servants fled, and all -hers. She had to replace them from a distance. -The anger, the responsibility, the agitation generally, -were too much for her years and constitution; -and three days ago—in the act (as we discovered) -of writing to the Duchess for instructions, -for she had expected the Court doctor would have -sent on special messengers to the courts of her -Highness’s relatives, and was in a perfect fever at -receiving no news—as I say, in the very act of -writing evidently to despatch another post herself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -the poor old lady was struck with paralysis, and -was carried speechless to bed. Now, Monsieur -Jean Nigaud, you English are a practical race. -Do you not agree with me that since the Lord, -in His wisdom, decreed that it was good for the -Countess’s soul to have a little physical affliction, -it could not have happened at a better moment -for us? I know that her Highness disapproves -of what she calls my heartlessness, but I cannot -but rejoice in our freedom.</p> - -<p>“The Countess is recovering, but she won’t -speak plain for a long time to come. Meanwhile -we are free—free as air! Our only personal -attendant is my own—my old nurse. You shall -see her. She speaks but little, but she adores me. -But as we cannot understand a word of the language -spoken here, and the resources of this district -are few, I will own to you, her Highness has -found it a little dull, in spite of her lady-in-waiting’s -well-known gift of entertainment, up to -to-day.”</p> - -<p>She threw me an arch look as she spoke, but -the Princess, rising with the dignity peculiar to -her, conveyed her sense that the joke had this -time been carried a little too far.</p> - -<p>The shadows were lengthening, the wind had -fallen, it was an hour of great peace and beauty in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -the land. The Princess took a few steps towards -the road where waited the carriage; I ran forward -and presumed to offer her my arm, which she very -graciously, but not without a blush, accepted. -The maid of honour, springing to her feet, followed -us, tripping over the rough ground, with a -torn frock and her hat hanging on her neck by -its ribbons. I mind me well how the chasseurs of -the equipage stared to see their lady come leaning -on the arm of a peasant. How they stared, too, -at the unabashed, untidy apparition of the lady-in-waiting! -But she, humming a little song as she -went, seemed the last in the world to care what -impression she made.</p> - -<p>As we neared the coach, a tall woman all in -black, with a black shawl over her black hair, jet-black -eyes, staring blankly out of a swarthy face, -descended from it. She looked altogether so dark -and forbidding a vision that I gave a start when I -saw her thus unexpectedly. She seemed a sort -of blot on the whole smiling, sunny landscape. -But as Mademoiselle Ottilie drew near, the woman -turned to her, her whole face breaking pleasantly -into a very eloquence of silent, eager love.</p> - -<p>Of course I guessed at once that this was the -nurse to whom the saucy maiden had already referred. -I heard them whisper to each other (and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -it seemed to me as if the woman were remonstrating -with her mistress) while I installed the Princess -on her cushions. Then both rejoined us to -enter the carriage likewise. Before she jumped -in, Mademoiselle Ottilie tapped her nurse on the -shoulder with the sort of indifferent, kind little pat -one would bestow on a dog. The woman caught -the careless hand and kissed it, and her eyes as -she looked after the girl’s figure were absolutely -adoring; but her whole countenance again clouded -over strangely when her glance fell upon us. At -length they all three were seated, and my graceful -retirement was clearly expected. But still I lingered.</p> - -<p>“The vintage had begun in my vineyards,” -quoth I hesitatingly; “if her Highness would -honour me by coming again upon my lands, the -sight might interest her.”</p> - -<p>The Princess hesitated, and then, evidently -doubtful as to the propriety of the step, threw a -questioning glance at her companion.</p> - -<p>“But certainly,” said the latter instantly, “why -not accept? Your Highness has been advised to -keep in the open air as much as possible, and your -Highness has likewise been recommended innocent -diversion: nothing could be better. When -shall we say?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> - -<p>“If to-morrow would suit,” I suggested boldly, -“I could ride over after noon, if her Highness -would permit me to be her escort. And perhaps -she will also further honour me by accepting some -slight refreshment at my castle. It is worth seeing,” -I said, for I saw no reason why I should be -bashful in pushing my advantages, “if your Highness -is not afraid to enter Le Château des Fous?” -I ventured to look deep into her eyes as I spoke, -and I remember how those eyes wavered shyly -from my gaze, and how the white lids fell over -them. And I remember, too, with what a sudden -mad exultation leaped my heart.</p> - -<p>But, as before, it was the lady-in-waiting who -answered.</p> - -<p>“Afraid! who is afraid? Your Highness, will -you not comfort the poor young man and tell him -you are not afraid?”</p> - -<p>“If your Highness would deign,” said I, pleadingly, -and leaning forward into the carriage.</p> - -<p>And then she looked at me, and said to me in -the sweetest guttural in all the world, “No, I am -not afraid.”</p> - -<p>We were speaking French. I bowed low, fearing -to spoil it all by another word. The Princess -stretched out her hand and I kissed the back of -her glove, and then I had the privilege of also<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -kissing Miss Ottilie’s sunburnt, scratched, and -rather grimy bare little paw, which she, with -affected dignity, thrust forward for my salute.</p> - -<p>The carriage drove away, and as it went I mind -me how the nurse looked after me with a darkling -anxiety, and also how as I stalked homewards -through the evening glow, with my body-guard -tramping steadily behind me, I kept recalling the -sound of the four gracious words with which the -Princess had consented to accept of my hospitality.</p> - -<p>She had said, it is true, “<i>Che n’ai bas beur</i>,” -but none the less was the memory a delicate -delight to my heart the whole night through.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER IV</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">I had</span> questioned János on our homeward way -concerning my new acquaintances; but the fellow -was so ill-disposed by nature to external gossip, so -wholly occupied with the minute fulfilment of his -daily task, which was to watch over the well-being -and safety of his master, that he had gathered no -acquaintance with affairs outside his province. -With the head factor, however, whom I sent for -immediately after supper, I was more fortunate. -This man, Karl Schultz, is Saxon-born, and consequently -one of the few of my numerous dependants -with whom I can hold converse here. It was but -natural that among the peasantry the advent of -strangers, evidently of wealth and distinction, -should have created some stir, and it is Schultz’s -business, among many other things, to know what -the peasantry talk about; although in this more -contented part of the world this sort of knowledge -is not of such importance as among our neighbours -the Poles. Schultz, therefore, was aware of the -arrival of the ladies, likewise of the rumour of -smallpox, which had, so he informed me, not only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -driven all the servants out of the Castle of -Schreckendorf, but spread something like a panic -over the country-side. Tidings had also come to -his ears that two gentlemen—one of them suffering -from the dreadful malady (doubtless the poor -Chamberlain)—had been abandoned in their carriage -by their postillions and servants at the small -village of Kittlitz, some forty miles from here, -just over the Lusatian border. He corroborated, -in fact, greatly to my joy, all that I had been told; -for I had had an uneasy fear upon me, now and -again, as I marched home in the evening chill, -that I had been too ready to lend credence to a -romantic and improbable story. But, better than -all, Schultz, having felt a special curiosity concerning -visitors from his own country, had, despite -the attempt to keep the matter secret, contrived -to satisfy himself to the full as to their identity. -And thus did I, to my no small triumph, from -the first day easily penetrate the ill-guarded -incognita.</p> - -<p>The beautiful wandering Princess was the only -daughter of the old reigning house of Lausitz-Rothenburg; -and it was from Georgenbrunn, -where she had been on a visit to her aunt the -Dowager Duchess of Saxony, that the second outbreak -of the epidemic had driven her to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -refuge with the Countess Schreckendorf in our -neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>Vastly satisfied with my discovery, and not a -little fluttered by the impending honour, I made -elaborate preparations the next day against the -coming of such guests. We rifled the gardens, -the greenhouses, and the storerooms, and contrived -a collation the elegance of which taxed our resources -to the uttermost.</p> - -<p>Not in peasant garb did I start at noon upon -my romantic quest, but in my finest riding suit of -mulberry cloth embroidered with green and silver, -(of what good auguries did I not think when I -remembered that green and white were actually -the colours of the Maison de Lusace, and that in -this discreet manner I could wear on my sleeve -the mark of a delicate homage?), ruffles of finest -Mechlin fluttered on my throat and wrists, and a -hat of the very latest cock was disposed jauntily -at the exact angle prescribed by the Vienna mode.</p> - -<p>With my trim fellows behind me, and with as -perfect a piece of horseflesh between my knees as -the Emperor himself could ever hope to bestride, -I set out in high delight and anticipation.</p> - -<p>Now, on this freezing winter’s night, when I -look back upon those days and the days that -followed, it seems to me as though it were all a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -dream. The past events are wrapped to memory -in a kind of haze, out of which certain hours -marked above the rest stand out alone in clearness.—That -particular day stands forth perhaps -the clearest of all.</p> - -<p>I remember that the Princess Ottilie looked -even more queenly to my mind than at first, with -her fair hair powdered and a patch upon the satin -whiteness of her chin. In the complacency of my -young man’s vanity, I was exceedingly elated that -she should have considered it worth while to adorn -herself for me. I remember, too, that the lady-in-waiting -examined me critically, and cast a look -of approval upon my altered appearance; that she -spoke less and that her mistress spoke more than -upon our first meeting; that even the presence, -mute, dark, and scowling, of their female attendant -could not spoil the pleasure of our intercourse.</p> - -<p>In the vineyards, it is true, an incident occurred -which for a moment threatened to mar my perfect -satisfaction. The peasant girls—it is the custom -of the country on the appearance of strangers in -the midst of their work—gathered round each -lady, surrounding her in wild dancing bands, threatening -in song to load her shoulders with a heavy -hodful of grapes unless she paid a ransom. It was -of course most unseemly, considering the quality of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -the company I was entertaining, and I had not foreseen -the possibility of such a breach of respect. -Never before, it was evident, in the delicately nurtured -life of the Princess, had such rough amusement -been allowed to approach her. This being -the case, it was not astonishing that the admirable -composure of her usual attitude should break down—her -dignity give way to the emotion of fear. -She called—nay, she screamed—to me for help. -The while her pert lady-in-waiting, no whit abashed, -laughed back at her circle of grinning sunburnt -prancers, threw mocking good-humoured gibes at -them in German, and finally was sharp enough to -draw her purse and pay for her footing, crying -out to her mistress to do the same. But the latter -was in no state to listen to advice, and, alas! I -found myself powerless to deliver the distressed -lady. In my ignorance of their language I could -do nothing short of use brute force to control my -savages, who were after all (it seems) but acting in -good faith upon an old-established privilege. So -I was fain, in my turn, to summon Schultz to the -rescue from a distant part of the ground. He, -practical fellow, made no bones about the matter; -with a bellow and a knowing whirl of his cane -every stroke of which told with a dull thwack, he -promptly dispersed the indiscreet merrymakers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> - -<p>I suppose it is my English blood that rises -within me at the sight of a woman struck. Upon -the impulse of the first moment I had well-nigh -wrenched the staff from his hands and laid it -about his shoulders; but fortunately, on second -thought, I had wisdom enough to refrain from an -act which would have been so fatal to all future -discipline. Nevertheless, as I stood by, a passive -spectator of it, the blood mounted, for very shame, -to my cheek, and I felt myself degraded to the -level of my administrator’s brutality.</p> - -<p>The poor fools fell apart, screaming between -laughter and pain. One handsome wench I -marked, indeed, who withdrew to the side of a -sullen gipsy-looking fellow, her husband or lover -apparently; and as she muttered low in his ear -they both cast looks charged with such murderous -import, not only at the uncompromising justiciary, -but also at me, and the man’s hand stole instinctively -to his back with so significant a gesture, -that I realised for the first time quite fully that -there might be good reasons for János’s precautions -anent the lord’s precious person when the lord took -his walks abroad.</p> - -<p>Another girl passed me close by, sobbing aloud, -as she returned to her labour. She rubbed her -shoulder sorely, and the tears hopped off the rim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -of her fat cheeks, contorted like those of a blubbering -child. In half-ashamed and sneaking fashion, -yet unable to resist the urging of my heart, -I followed her behind the next row of vines and -touched her on the arm.</p> - -<p>She recognised me with a start, and I, all fearful -of being noticed by the others, in haste and without -a word—as what word could I find in which -to communicate with a Slovack?—hastily dropped -a consolatory coin, the first that met my touch, into -her palm.</p> - -<p>It was a poor plain creature with dull eyes, coarse -lips, and matted hair, and she gazed at me a moment -stupidly bewildered. But the next instant, -reading I know not what of sympathy and benevolence -in my face, as a dog may read in his master’s -eyes, she fell at my feet, letting the gold slip out of -her grasp that she might the better seize my hand -in hers and cover it with kisses, pouring forth the -while a litany of gratitude, as unintelligible to me -as if she had been indeed a dog whining at my feet.</p> - -<p>To put an end to the absurd situation, distasteful -to my British free-born pride for all my foreign -training, I pushed her from me and turned away, -to find the lady-in-waiting at my elbow.</p> - -<p>Instead, however, of making my weakness a -mark for her wit, this latter, to my great relief,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -and likewise to my astonishment, looked wistfully -from the ugly besmeared face to the coin lying on -the black soil, then at my countenance, which at -that moment was, I felt, that of a detected schoolboy. -And then, without a word, she followed me -back to her mistress’s side.</p> - -<p>My august visitor had not yet regained her -wonted serenity. Still fluttered, she showed me -something of a pouting visage. I thought to discern -in her not only satisfaction at the punishment -she had seen administered, but some resentment -at my passive attitude. And this, I confess, surprised -me in her, who seemed so gentle and -womanly. But I told myself then that it was but -natural in one born as she was to a throne.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, while I confounded myself -in excuses and explanations, blaming myself for -having (through my inexperience of this country) -neglected to prevent the possibility of so untoward -an incident, I heard behind me the voice of the -young Court lady, rating Schultz in most explicit -German for the heaviness of his hand upon my -folk. And, as the Princess gradually became mollified -towards me and showed me once again her -own smiling graciousness, I contrasted her little -show of haughtiness with the unreserve of her -companion, and convinced myself that it did but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -become her (being what she was). The while I -watched Mademoiselle Ottilie, mingling with peasants -as if she had been born among them, with -an ever renewed wonder that she should have been -chosen for the high position she occupied.</p> - -<p>Later on my guest, according to her promise, -condescended to rest and refresh herself in the -castle. This was the culminating moment of a -golden afternoon. I felt the full pride of possession -when I led her in through the old halls that -bore the mark of so many centuries of noble -masters; although indeed, as a Jennico, I had no -inherited right to peacock in the glories of the -House of Tollendhal. But, at each portrait before -which she was gracious enough to halt, I took care -to speak of some notable contemporary among the -men and women of my own old line, in that distant -enchanted island of the North, where the men -are so brave and strong and the women so fair. -And, without stretching any point, I am sure the -line of Jennico lost nothing in the comparison.</p> - -<p>She was, I saw, beyond mistake impressed. I -rejoiced to note that I was rapidly becoming a -person of importance in her eyes. Even the lady-in-waiting -continued to measure me with an altered -and thoughtful look.</p> - -<p>Between the eating of our meal together—which,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -as I said, was quite a delicate little feast, -and did honour to my barefooted kitchen retinue—and -the departure of my visitors, I took them -through many of the chambers, and showed them -some of the treasures, quaint antiquities, and relics -that my great-uncle had inherited or himself collected. -On a little table under his picture—yonder -on that wall it hangs before me—I had -spread forth in a glass case, with a sort of tender -and pious memory of the rigid old hero, his own -personal decorations and honours, from the first -cross he had won in comparative youth to the last -blazing order that a royal hand had pinned over -the shrunken chest of the field-marshal. In this -portrait, painted some five years before his death, -my uncle had insisted on appearing full face, with -a fine scorn of any palliation of the black patch or -the broken jaw. It is a grim enough presentment -in consequence,—the artist having evidently rather -relished his task,—and sometimes, indeed, when I -am alone here in this great room at night, and it -seems as if the candle-light does but serve to -heighten the gloom of the shadows, I find my -uncle’s one eye following me with so living a -sternness that I can scarce endure it.</p> - -<p>But that day of which I am writing, I thought -there was benignity in the fierce orb as it surveyed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -such honourable company, and even an actual -touch of geniality in the set of the black patch.</p> - -<p>As I opened the case, both the ladies fell, -women-like, to fingering the rich jewels. There -was a snuff-box set around with diamonds, upon -the lid of which was painted a portrait of the -Dauphine. This, Maria Theresa had herself given -to my uncle on the occasion of her daughter’s -marriage, to which it was deemed my uncle’s firm -attitude in council over the Franco-Austrian difficulty -had not a little contributed.</p> - -<p>With a cry of admiration, the Princess took it -up. “Ach, what diamonds!” she said. I looked -from the exquisite face on the ivory to the no less -exquisite countenance bending above it, and I was -struck by the resemblance which had no doubt -unconsciously been haunting me ever since I first -met her. The arch of the dark eyebrow, the -supercilious droop of the eyelid, the curve of the -short upper lip, and the pout of the full under -one, even the high poise of the head on the long -throat, were curiously similar. I exclaimed upon -the coincidence, while the Princess flushed with a -sort of mingled pleasure and bashfulness.</p> - -<p>Mademoiselle Ottilie took up the miniature in -her turn, and, after gravely comparing it with her -own elfish, sunburnt visage in the glass, gazed at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -her mistress; then, heaving a lugubrious sigh, she -assented to my remarks, adding, however, that -there was no ground for surprise, as the Princess -Marie Ottilie was actually cousin to her Royal -Highness the Dauphine.</p> - -<p>The Princess blushed again, and lifted up her -hand as if to warn her companion. But the latter, -with her almost uncanny perspicacity, continued, -turning to me:</p> - -<p>“Of course, M. de Jennico” (she had at last -mastered my name)—“of course, M. de Jennico -has found out all about us by this time, and is -perfectly aware of her Highness’s identity.”</p> - -<p>Then she added, and her eyes danced:</p> - -<p>“Since M. de Jennico is so fond of genealogy” -(among the curiosities of the place I had naturally -shown them my uncle’s monumental pedigree), -“he can amuse himself in tracing the connection -and relationships—no doubt he has the ’Almanach -de Gotha’—between the houses of Hapsburg -and the Catholic house of Lausitz-Rothenburg.”</p> - -<p>And indeed, although she meant this in sarcasm, -when, after I had escorted them home, I returned, -through the mists and shades of twilight, to my -solitude (now peopled for me with delightful present, -and God knows what fantastic future, visions), -I did produce that excellent new book, the “Almanach<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -de Gotha,” and found great interest in -tracing the blood-relation between the Dauphine -and the fairest of princesses. And afterwards, -moved by some spirit of vainglory, I amused myself -by comparing on the map the relative sizes of -the Duchy of Lausitz and the lands of Tollendhal.</p> - -<p>And next I was moved to unroll once again -my uncle’s pedigree, and to study the fine chain -of noble links of which I stand the last worthy -Jennico, when something that had been lying unformed -in my mind during these last hours of -strange excitement suddenly took audacious and -definite shape.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER V</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">What</span> first entered my brain as the wildest -possibility grew rapidly to a desire which possessed -my whole being with absolute passion. -The situation was in itself so singular and tantalising, -and the Princess was so beautiful a woman, -to be on these terms of delicious intimacy with -the daughter of one of Europe’s sovereigns (a -little sovereign it is true, but great by race and -connection), to meet her constantly in absolute -defiance of all the laws of etiquette, yet to see her -wear through it all as unapproachable a dignity, -as serene an aspect of condescension, as though -she were presiding at her father’s Court—it was -enough, surely, to have turned the head of a wiser -man than myself!</p> - -<p>It was not long before Mademoiselle Ottilie, the -lady-in-waiting, discovered the secret madness of -my thoughts—in the light of what has since -occurred I can truly call it so. And she it was -who, for purposes of her own, shovelled coals -on the fire and fanned the flame. One way or -another, generally on her initiative, but always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -by her arrangement, we three met, and met -daily.</p> - -<p>On the evening of a day passed in their company, -with the impression strong upon me of the -Princess’s farewell look, which had held, I fancied, -something different to its wont; with the knowledge -that I had, unrebuked, pressed and kissed -that fair hand after a fashion more daring than -respectful, with my blood in a fever and my brain -in a whirl, now seeming sure of success, now -coldly awake to my folly, I bethought me of taking -counsel again with my great-uncle’s pedigree. -And heartened by the proofs that the blood of -Jennico was good enough for any alliance, I fell to -completing the document by bringing it up to date -as far as concerned myself. Now, when I in -goodly black letters had set down my own cognomen -so fair upon the parchment, I was further -seized with the fancy to fill in the space left blank -for my future marriage; and I lightly traced in -pencil, opposite the words “Basil Jennico, Lord of -Tollendhal,” the full titles and names, which by -this time I had studied till I knew them off by -heart, of her Serene Highness the Princess Marie -Caroline Dorothée Josephine Charlotte Ottilie of -Lausitz.</p> - -<p>It made such a pretty show after all that had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -gone before, and it brought such visions with it of -the glories the name of Jennico might yet rise to, -that I could not find it in me to erase it again, -and so left it as it stood, telling myself, as I rolled -up the great deed again and hooked it in its place -beneath my uncle’s portrait, that it would not be -my fault if the glorious entry did not remain there -for ever.</p> - -<p>The next time the ladies visited me, Mademoiselle -Ottilie—flitting like a little curious brown -moth about the great room, dancing pirouettes -beneath my uncle’s portrait, and now and again -pausing to make a comical grimace at his forbidding -countenance, while I entertained her mistress -at its further end—must needs be pricked by the -desire to study the important document, which I -had, as I have said, already submitted to her view.</p> - -<p>Struck by her sudden silence and stillness, I -rose and crossed the room to find her with the -parchment rolled out before her, absorbed in contemplation, -her elbows on the table, her face leaning -on her hands. With a fierce rush of blood to -my cheeks, in a confusion that set every pulse -throbbing, I attempted to withdraw from her the -evidence of what must seem the most impudent -delusion. But she held tight with her elbows, -and then, disregarding my muttered explanation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -that I intended to rub out at once the nonsense -I had written in a moment of idleness, she laid -her small finger upon the place, and, looking at -me gravely, said:</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>The whole room whirled round with me.</p> - -<p>“My God,” I cried, “don’t mock me!”</p> - -<p>But she, with a new ring of feeling in her voice, -said earnestly:</p> - -<p>“She has such misery before her if her father -carries out his will.”</p> - -<p>To hear these words from her, who of all others -must be in her mistress’s confidence, ought, however -amazing to reason and common sense, to -have been a spur to one whose ambition soared -so high. Nevertheless, I hesitated. To be honest -with myself, not from a lover’s diffidence, from -a lover’s dread of losing even hope, but rather -from the fear of placing myself in an absurd -position—of risking the deadly humiliation of a -refusal.</p> - -<p>I dared therefore nothing but soft looks, soft -words, soft pressures of the hand; and the Princess -received them all as she received everything that -had gone before. From one in her position this -might seem of itself encouragement enough in all -conscience; but I waited in vain for some break<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -in her unruffled composure—some instant in -which I could mark that the Princess was lost in -the woman. And so what drew me most to her -kept me back. At the same time a rooted distrust -of the little lady-in-waiting, a certain contempt, -too, for her personality as belonging to -that roture so despised of my great-uncle and myself, -prevented me from placing confidence in -her.</p> - -<p>But she, nevertheless, precipitated the climax. -It was three days after the scene in my great-uncle’s -room, one Sunday morning, beside the -holy-water font in the little chapel of Schreckendorf -Castle, whither, upon the invitation of its -present visitors—my own priest being ill, poor -man, of an ague—I had betaken myself to hear -mass. The Princess had passed out first, and had -condescended, smiling, to brush the pious drops -from my finger; but Mademoiselle Ottilie paused -as she too touched with hers my outstretched -hand, and said in my ear as crossly as a spoilt -child:</p> - -<p>“You are not a very ardent lover, M. de Jennico. -The days are going by; the Countess -Schreckendorf is beginning to speak quite plain -again. It is impossible that her Highness should -be left in this liberty much longer.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> - -<p>I caught her hand as she would have hurried -away.</p> - -<p>“If I could be sure that this is not some foolish -jest,” I said in a fierce whisper in her ear.</p> - -<p>And she to me back again as fiercely:</p> - -<p>“You are afraid!” she said with a curling -lip.</p> - -<p>That settled it.</p> - -<p>I rode straight home, though I was expected to -have joined the ladies in some expedition. I -spent the whole day in a most intolerable state of -agitation; and then, my mind made up, I sat -down after supper to write, beneath my uncle’s -portrait. And the first half of the night went by -in writing and re-writing the letter which was to -offer the hand and heart of Basil Jennico to the -Princess Marie Ottilie of Lausitz.</p> - -<p>I wrote and tore up till the ground around me -was strewn with the fragments of paper; and -now I seemed too bold, when the whole incongruity -and absurdity of my desire took tangible -form to mock me in the silence of the night; and -now too humble, when in the flickering glimmer -of candle-light my great-uncle would frown down -upon me, and I could hear him say:</p> - -<p>“Remember that thou Jennico bist!”</p> - -<p>At last a letter lay before me by which I resolved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -to abide. I believe that it was an odd -mixture of consciousness of my own temerity in -aspiring so high, and at the same time of conviction -that the house of Jennico could only confer, -and not receive, honour. I even proposed to present -myself boldly with my credentials at the -Court of Lausitz (and here of course the famous -pedigree came in once more), and I modestly -added that, considering my wealth and connections, -I ventured to hope the Duke, her father, -might favourably consider my pretensions.</p> - -<p>This written and sealed, I was able to sleep -for the rest of the night, but was awake again -with dawn and counting the minutes until I -could decently despatch a mounted messenger to -Schreckendorf.</p> - -<p>When the man rode forth I believe it was a -little after eight; and I know that it was on the -stroke of one when I heard his horse’s hoofs ringing -again in the courtyard. But time had no -measure for the strange agony of doubt in which -I passed those hours, not (once again have I to -admit it) because I loved her too dearly to bear -the thought of life without her, but because of my -fierce pride, which would not brook the shame of -a refusal.</p> - -<p>I called in a frenzy to hurry the lagging fool into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -my presence; and yet when he laid the letter on -my table I stared at the great seal without daring -to open it. And when at last I did so my hand -trembled like an aspen leaf.</p> - -<p class="pbq p1">“Monsieur de Jennico,” it began abruptly, “I ought to call -you mad, for what you propose is nothing less indeed than -madness. You little know the fetters that bind such lives as -mine, and I could laugh and weep together to think of what -the Duke, my father, would say were you really to present -yourself before him as you suggest.”</p> - -<p class="p1">So it ran, and as I read I thought I was contemned, -and in my fury would have crushed the -letter in my hand, when a word below caught my -eye, and with an intensity of joy on a par only -with the passion of wounded pride that had preceded -it, I read on:</p> - -<p class="pbq p1">“But, dear Monsieur de Jennico,” so ran the letter then, -“since you love me, and since you honour me by telling me -so; since you offer me so generously all you have to give, I -will be honest with you and tell you that my present life has -no charm for me. I know only too well what the future -holds for me in my own home, and I am willing to trust myself -to you and to your promises rather than face the lot -already drawn for me.</p> - -<p class="pbq">“Therefore, Monsieur de Jennico, if it be true that, as you -say, all your happiness depends upon my answer, I trust it -may be for the benefit of both that I should say ’Yes’ to you -to-day. But what is to be must be secretly done, and soon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -Are you willing, to obtain your desire, to risk a little, when -I am willing to risk so much in granting it? If so, meet my -lady-in-waiting to-day at six, alone, where we first met, and -she will tell you all that I have decided.”</p> - -<p class="p1">It was signed simply—“Marie Ottilie.”</p> - -<p>There was no hint of answering love to my -passionate declaration, but I did not miss it. I -had won my Princess, and the few clear words in -which she laid bare before me the whole extent of -my presumption only added to the exquisite zest -of my conquest.</p> - -<p>It was a very autumn day—autumn comes -quickly in these lands. It had been raining, and -I rode down from the higher level into a sea of -white writhing mists. It was still and warm—one -of those heavy days that as a rule seem like to -clog the blood and fill one with reasonless foreboding. -I remember all that now; but I know that -there was no place for foreboding in my exulting -heart as I sallied out full early to the trysting-place.</p> - -<p>The mare I rode, because of the close atmosphere -and her own headstrong temper, was in a great -lather when I arrived at the little pine-wood, and -I dismounted and began to lead her gently to and -fro (for I loved the pretty creature, who was as -fond and skittish as a woman) that she might cool -by degrees and take no injury. I was petting and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -fondling her sleek coat, when of a sudden, without -my having had the least warning of her coming, I -turned to find Mademoiselle Ottilie before me.</p> - -<p>She looked at me straight with one of those odd -searching looks which I had now and again seen -her fix upon me; and without either “Good-even” -or “How-do-you-do,” she said abruptly:</p> - -<p>“I saw you coming all the way along the white -road from the moment it turns the corner, and I -saw how your mare fought you, and how difficult -it was to bring her past the great beam of the well -yonder. You made her obey, but you have not -left a scratch upon her sides—yet you wear -spurs.”</p> - -<p>She looked at me with the most earnest inquiry, -and, ruffled by the futility of the question when -so much was at stake, I said to her somewhat -sharply:</p> - -<p>“What has this to do, Mademoiselle, with our -meeting here to-day?”</p> - -<p>“It has this to do, Monsieur,” she answered me -composedly, “that her Highness’s interests are as -dear to me as my own, and that I am glad to learn -that the man she is to wed has a merciful heart. -I know a man,” she went on, “in our own country -who passes for the finest, the bravest, the most -gallant, but when he brings a horse in from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -chase its legs will be trembling and it will be -panting so that it can scarce draw breath, because -the rider is so brave and dashing that he must go -the fastest of all, and he will have left his mark -upon the poor beast’s sides in great furrows where -he has ploughed them with his spurs. He is -greatly admired by every one; but his horses die, -and his hounds shrink when he moves his hand: -that is what my country-people call being manly—being -a real cavalier!”</p> - -<p>The scorn of her tone was something beyond -the mere girlish pettishness I generally associated -with her; but to me, except as she represented or -influenced her mistress, she had never had any -interest. And so again impatiently I brought her -back to the object of our meeting.</p> - -<p>“Her Highness has entrusted you with a message?” -I asked.</p> - -<p>“Her Highness would first of all know,” said -the maid of honour, “if you fully realise the difficulties -you may bring upon yourself by the marriage -you propose?”</p> - -<p>“The Princess,” said I proudly, “has condescended -to say that she will trust herself to me. -After that, as far as I am concerned, there can be -no question of difficulty. As for her, if she will -consent to accompany me to England, no trouble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -or reproach need ever reach her ears. If she prefers -to remain here, I shall none the less be able -to protect my wife, were it against the whole -Empire itself.”</p> - -<p>“That is the right spirit,” said Mademoiselle -Ottilie, nodding her head approvingly. “What -you say has not got a grain of common sense, but -that is all as it should be. And next,” she continued, -drawing closer to me, for there was a twilight -dimness about us, and standing on tiptoe -in the endeavour to bring her gaze on a level with -mine, “her Highness wishes to know”—she -dropped her voice a little—“if you love her very -much?”</p> - -<p>As if the gaze of those yellow hazel eyes of hers -had cast a sudden revealing light upon my soul, -I stood abashed and dumb, self-convicted by my -silence. Love! Did I love her whom I would -make my wife? Taken up with schemes of vainglory -and ambition, what room had I in my heart -for love? In all my triumph at having won her, -was there one qualifying thread of tenderness? -Would I, in fine, have sought the woman, beautiful -though she was, were she not the Princess?</p> - -<p>In a sort of turmoil I asked myself these things -under the compelling earnestness of Mademoiselle -Ottilie’s eyes, and everything in myself looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -strange and hideous to myself, as beneath a vivid -lightning flash the most familiar scene assumes a -singular and appalling aspect.</p> - -<p>In another moment she moved away and turned -aside from me; and then, even as after the lightning -flash all things resume their normal aspect, I -wondered at my own weak folly, and my blood -rose hotly against the impertinence that had -evoked it.</p> - -<p>“By what right,” said I, “Mademoiselle, do you -ask me such a question? If it be indeed by order -of her Highness, pray tell her that when she will -put it to me herself I will answer it to herself.”</p> - -<p>The maid of honour wheeled round with her -arch, inscrutable smile.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” she said, “believe me, you have answered -me very well. I was already convinced of -the sincerity and ardour of your attachment to ... -her Highness—so convinced, indeed, that I am -here to-night for the sole purpose of helping both -you and her to your most insane of marriages. -The Princess is accustomed to rely upon me for -everything, and upon me, therefore, falls the -whole burden of preparation and responsibility. -Whether the end of all this will be a dungeon for -the lady-in-waiting, if indeed the Duke does not -have her executed for high treason, is naturally a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -contingency which neither of you will consider -worth a moment’s thought. It is quite certain, -however, that without me you would both do -something inconceivably stupid, and ruin all. -But, voyons, Monsieur de Jennico,” she went on -with sudden gravity of demeanour, “this is no time -for pleasantry. It is a very serious matter. You -are wasting precious moments in a singularly -light-hearted fashion, it seems to me.”</p> - -<p>The reproach came well from her! But she -left me no time to protest.</p> - -<p>“I am here,” she said, “as you know, to tell -you what the Princess has decided, and how we -must act if the whole thing is not to fail. First -of all, the arrival of some important person from -the Court of Lausitz may take place any day, and -then—’Bonjour!’” She blew an airy kiss and -waved her hand, while with a cold thrill I realised -the irrefutable truth of her words.</p> - -<p>“If it is to be,” she went on, unconsciously repeating -almost the exact text of her mistress’s -letter to me, “it must be at once and in secret. -Mind, not a word to a soul till all is accomplished! -On your honour I lay it! And she, her Highness, -enjoins it upon you not to betray her to any single -human being before you have acquired the right to -protect her. It is surely not too much to ask!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> - -<p>She spoke with deep solemnity, and yet characteristically -cut short my asseverations.</p> - -<p>“And, that being settled, and you being willing -to take this lady for your wife,—probably without -a stiver, and certainly with her father’s curse” -(I smiled proudly in the arrogance of my heart: -all Duke as he was I did not doubt, once the first -storm over, but that my exalted father-in-law -would find very extenuating circumstances for his -wilful daughter’s choice).—“that being settled,” -continued Miss Ottilie, “it only remains to know—are -you prepared to enter the marriage state -two nights hence?”</p> - -<p>“I wish,” said I, and could not keep the note -of exultation from my voice at having the rare -prize thus actually within my reach—“I wish you -would ask me for some harder proof of my complete -devotion to her Highness.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then,” she said hastily, whispering as if -the pines could overhear us, “so be it! I have -not been idle to-day, and I have laid the plot. -You know the little church in that wretched village -of Wilhelmsdhal we posted through two days -ago? The priest there is very old and very poor -and like a child, because he has always lived -among the peasants; and now indeed he is almost -too old to be their priest any more. I saw him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -to-day, and told him that two who loved each -other were in great straits because people wanted -to wed the maiden to a bad and cruel man,—that -is true, Monsieur de Jennico,—I told him that -these two would die of grief, or lose their souls, -perhaps, were they separated, because of the love -they bore each other.... There, sir, I permitted -myself a poetical license! To be brief, I -promised him in your name what seemed a great -sum for his poor, a thousand thalers—you will -see to that—and he has promised me to wed -you on Wednesday night, at eight of the clock, -secretly, in his poor little church. He is so old -and so simple it was like misleading a child, -but nevertheless, the cause being good, I trust -I may be forgiven. Drive straight to the church, -and there you will find one who will direct -you. The Princess will not see you again till -she meets you before the altar. You will bring -her home to your castle. A maid will accompany -her. And that is all. Adieu, Monsieur de -Jennico.”</p> - -<p>She stretched out her hand and her voice -trembled.</p> - -<p>“You will not see the maid of honour perhaps -ever again. Her task is done,” she added.</p> - -<p>I took her hand, touched by her accent of earnestness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -and gratefully awoke to the fact that -she alone had made the impossible possible to my -desire. I looked at her face, close to mine in the -faint light; and as she smiled at me, a little sadly, -I was struck with the delicate beauty of the curve -of her lip, and the exquisite finishing touch of the -dimple that came and went beside it, and the -thought flashed into my mind—“That little maid -may one day blossom into the sort of woman that -drives men mad.”</p> - -<p>She slipped her hand from mine as I would -have kissed it, and nodded at me with a return -of the cool impudence that had so often vexed -me.</p> - -<p>“Good-bye, gallant cavalier,” she said mockingly.</p> - -<p>She whistled as if for a dog, and I saw the -black figure of the nurse start from the shadow of -the trees a few yards away, and, meeting, they -joined in the mist and merged swiftly into it.</p> - -<p>Whereupon I mounted the mare, who was sorely -tried by her long waiting; and as we cantered -homewards I was haunted, through the extraordinary -blaze of my triumphant thoughts, to my own -exasperation and surprise, oddly and unwillingly, -by the arch sweetness of the maid of honour’s -smile.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - -<p>And once (I blushed all alone in the darkness -for the shame of such a thought in my mind at -such a moment) I caught myself picturing the -sweetness a man might find in pressing his lips -upon the tantalising dimple.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER VI</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">The</span> night before my wedding-day—it was natural -enough—there was a restlessness upon me -which would not let me sleep, or think of sleep.</p> - -<p>When supper was over I bade my servants retire. -They had thought me cracked, and with -reason, I believe, for the way in which I had wandered -about the house all day, moving and shifting -and preparing, and giving orders to no seeming -purpose. I sat down in my uncle’s room, and, -drawing the chair he had died in opposite his portrait, -I held a strange conclave with (as I believed -then) his ghost. I know now that if any spirit -communed with me that night it was my own evil -angel.</p> - -<p>I had had the light set where it best illuminated -the well-known countenance. At my elbow was a -goodly bottle of his famous red wine.</p> - -<p>“Na, old one,” said I aloud, leaning back in my -chair in luxurious self-satisfaction and proud complacency, -“am I doing well for the old name? -Who knows if one day thou countest not kings -among thy descendants!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> - -<p>Methought the old man grinned back at me, his -hideous tusked grin.</p> - -<p>“‘Tis well, Kerlchen,” he said.</p> - -<p>I unrolled the pedigree. That cursed parchment, -what a part it has played in my life!—as -evil a part, as fatal as the apple by which our first -parents fell. It is pride that damns us all! And -I read aloud the entries I had made: they sounded -very well, and so my uncle thought—or seemed -to—for I swear he winked at me and said:</p> - -<p>“Write it in ink, lad; that must stand clear, -for das klingt schön.”</p> - -<p>And then, though I was very comfortable, I had -to get up and find the ink and engross the noble -record of my marriage, filling in the date with -care, for my uncle, dead or alive, was not one to -disobey.</p> - -<p>“‘Tis good,” then again said my uncle, “and -thou dost well. But remember, without I had -done so well, lad, thou hadst not risen thus. And -what,” added my uncle, sniggering, “will the Brüderl -say when he hears the news—hey, nephew -Basil?”</p> - -<p>I had thought of that myself: it was another -glorious pull over the renegade!</p> - -<p>Whereupon my uncle—it was surely the proud -fiend himself bent upon my destruction—fell to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -telling me I must write to my family at once, that -the letter might be despatched in the morning.</p> - -<p>I protested. I was bound to secrecy, I told -him. But he scowled, and would have it that I -must remember my duty to my mother, and he further -made me a very long sermon upon the curses -that will befall a bad child. And thus egged on—and -what could I do?—I indited a very flaming -document indeed, and under the seal of the strictest -confidence made my poor mother acquainted -with all the greatness her son was bringing into -his family, and bade her rejoice with him.</p> - -<p>The night was well worn when I had finished, -and the bottle of potent Burgundy was nearly -out too. Then, meaning to rise and withdraw, I -fell asleep in my chair. It was grey dawn before -I awoke, and I was cold as I stretched myself and -staggered to my feet. In the weird thin light my -uncle’s face now shone out drawn and austere, -with something of the look I remembered it to -have borne in death.</p> - -<p>But it was the dawn of my wedding-day, and I -went to my bed—stumbling over old János, who -sat, the faithful dog! asleep on the threshold—to -dream of my wedding ... a wedding with royal -pomp, to the blare of trumpets and the acclamations -of a multitude:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Jennico hoch—hoch dem edlen Jennico!”</p> - -<p>The village of Wilhelmsdhal is quite an hour’s -drive (even at the pace of my good horses) along -the downhill road which leads from my uplifted -mansion into the valley land; it takes two hours -for the return way.</p> - -<p>For safety’s sake I made the announcement of -my approaching marriage to the household as late -in the day as possible, and, though sorely tempted -to betray the exalted rank of the future mistress to -the astonished major-domo, to whom János, with -his usual imperturbability, interpreted my commands, -I refrained, with a sense that the impression -created would only after all be heightened if -the disclosure were withheld till the actual apparition -of the newly-made wife.</p> - -<p>But in the vain arrogance of my delight I ordered -every detail of the reception which was to -greet us, and which I was determined should be -magnificent enough to make up for the enforced -hole-and-corner secrecy of the marriage ceremony.</p> - -<p>Schultz the factor, my chief huntsman, and the -highest among my people were to head torch-light -processions of their particular subordinates -at stated places along the avenue that led upwards -to the house. There was to be feasting and -music in the courtyard. Flowers were to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -strewn from the very threshold of her new home -to the door of my Princess’s bridal chamber.</p> - -<p>God knows all the extravagance I planned! It -makes me sick now to think back on it!</p> - -<p>And the wedding! Ah! that was a wedding to -be proud of!</p> - -<p>It was a dull and cloudy evening, with a high, -moist wind that came in wild gusts, sweeping over -the plains and tearing the leaves from the forest -trees, bringing with it now a swift moonlit clearing -upon the lowering face of heaven, now only -thicker darkness and torrents of rain. It was all -but night already in the forest roads when I -started, and quite night as I emerged from out of -the shelter of the mountains into the flat country. -János sat on the box and my chasseurs hung on -behind, and my four horses kept up a splendid -pace upon the level ground. I had dressed very -fine, as became a bridegroom; but fortunate it -was that I had brought a dark cloak with me, for -a fearful burst of storm-rain came down upon me -as I jumped out from the carriage at the church -door. And indeed, despite that protection, my -fine white satin clothes were splashed with mud, -my carefully powdered queue sadly disarranged -in the few steps I had to take before reaching -shelter, for the wind blew a very hurricane,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -and the rain came down like the rain of the -deluge.</p> - -<p>The church porch was lit only by an ill-trimmed -wick floating in a saucer of oil; but by the flickering -light, envious and frail as it was, I discerned -at once the figure of Mademoiselle Ottilie’s nurse -awaiting us. Without a word she beckoned to me -to follow her into the church.</p> - -<p>The place struck cold and damp with a death-like -closeness after the warm blustering air I had -just left. It was even darker than the porch outside, -its sole illumination proceeding from the -faint glow of the little sanctuary lamp and the -sullen yellow flame of two or three tallow candles -stuck on spikes before a rough wooden statue on a -pillar at one side. I, flanked by János and his two -satellites, followed the gaunt figure to the very -altar rails, where, with an imperious gesture, she -signed to me to take my place.</p> - -<p>Before turning to go she stood still a second -looking at me, and methought—or it may have -been a fancy born of the dismal place and the -dismal gloom—that I had never seen a human -countenance express so much hatred as did that -woman’s in the mysterious gleam of the lamp. My -heart contracted with an omen of forthcoming ill.</p> - -<p>Then I heard her feet go down the aisle, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -door open and close, and we were left alone. In -the silence of the church—the most poverty-stricken -and desolate, the most miserable, the -most ruined to be yet used as the House of God, I -think I had ever entered—at the foot of the altar -of my faith, a sudden misgiving seized upon me. -How would all this end? I was going to bind -myself for life with the most solemn vows. Would -all the honour and glory of the alliance compensate -me for the loss of my liberty?</p> - -<p>I was only twenty-six, and I knew of her who -was henceforth to be my second self no more, -rather less, than I knew of any of the barefooted -maids that slipped grinning about the passages of -Tollendhal. To be frank with myself, the glamour -of gratified vanity once stripped from before the -eye of my inmost soul, what was the naked, hideous -truth? I had no more love for her—man -for woman—than for rosy Kathi or black-browed -Sarolta!</p> - -<p>Here my reflections were broken in upon by -that very patter of naked soles that had been in -my thoughts, and a little ragged boy, in a dilapidated -surplice, ran round the sanctuary from some -back door, and fell to lighting a pair of candles on -the altar, a proceeding which only seemed once -more to heighten the darkness. Presently, in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -surplice and cassock as tattered as his acolyte’s, -with long white hair lying unkempt upon his shoulders, -an old priest—in sooth, the oldest man I have -ever seen alive, I believe—came forth with tottering -steps; before him the tattered urchin, behind -him a sacristan well-nigh as antique as himself, -and as utterly pauperised.</p> - -<p>These were to be the ministers of my grand -marriage!</p> - -<p>But almost immediately a fresh clamour of opening -doors, and a light, sedate footfall, struck my -ear, and all doubt and dismay disappeared like -magic. Closely enveloped in the folds of a voluminous -dark velvet cloak, with its hood drawn -forward over her head, and beneath this shade her -face muffled in the gathers of a white lace veil, I -knew the stately height of my bride as she advanced -towards me—and the sight of her, the sound of -her brave step, set my heart dancing with the -old triumph.</p> - -<p>She stood beside me, and as the words were -spoken I thought no more of the mean surroundings, -of the evil omens, of the responsibilities and -consequences of my act. It was nothing to me -now that the old priest who wedded us, and his -companion who ministered to him, should look -more like mouldering corpses than living men—that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -the nurse’s burning eyes should still seek my -face with evil look. I had no thought to spare for -the position of my bride herself—her filial disobedience, -her loneliness—no feeling of tenderness -for the touching character of her confidence -in me—no doubt as to her future happiness as -my wife, nor as to my capacity for compensating -her for the sacrifice of so much. I did not wonder -at, nay, notice even, the absence of the lady-in-waiting—that -moving spirit of our courtship. My -whole soul was possessed with triumph. I was -self-centred on my own success. The words were -spoken; my voice rang out boldly, but hers was -the barest breath of speech behind her muffling -drapery. I slipped the ring (it had been my aunt’s), -with a passing wonder that it should prove so much -too large, upon the slender finger, that hardly protruded -from a fall of enveloping lace.</p> - -<p>We were drenched with a perfect shower of holy -water out of a tin bucket; and then, man and wife, -we went to the sacristy to sign our names by the -light of one smoking tallow candle.</p> - -<p>I dashed mine forth with splendid flourish—the -good old name of Jennico of Farringdon Dane and -Tollendhal, all my qualifications, territorial, military, -and inherited. And she penned hers in the -flowing handwriting I already knew, Marie Ottilie:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -the lofty, simple signature, as I thought with -swelling heart, of sovereigns!</p> - -<p>I pressed into the old priest’s cold fingers, as he -peered at us from the book, right and left, with -dull, bewildered eyes, in which I thought to see -the dawn of a vague misgiving, a purse bulging -with notes to the value of double the sum promised; -and then, with her hand upon my arm, I led -her to my carriage.</p> - -<p>The rain had begun again and the wind was -storming when we drove off, my wife and I. And -for a little while—a long time it seemed to me—there -was silence between us, broken only by the -beating of the drops against the panes of the carriage, -and the steady tramp of my horses’ hoofs -on the wet road. Now that I had accomplished -my wish, a strange embarrassment fell upon me. -I had no desire to speak of love to the woman I -had won. I had won her, I had triumphed—that -was sufficient. I would not have undone my deed -for the world; but none the less the man who finds -himself the husband and has never been the lover -is placed in a singular position.</p> - -<p>I looked at the veiled figure beside me and wondered -at its stillness. The light of the little lantern -inside the carriage flickered upon the crimson of -the velvet cloak and the white folds of the veil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -that hid her face from me. Then I awoke to the -consciousness of the sorry figure I must present -in her eyes, and, drawing from my pocket a ring,—the -richest I had been able to find among my -aunt’s rich store,—I took the hand that lay half -hidden and passive beside me, meaning to slip the -jewel over the plain gold circlet I had already -placed upon it. Now, as I took the hand into my -own, I was struck with its smallness, its slenderness, -its lightness; I remembered that even in the dark -church, and with but the tips of the fingers resting -in my own, a similar impression had vaguely -struck me. I lifted it, spread out the little, long, -thin fingers—too often had I kissed the dimpled -firm hand of her Serene Highness not to know the -difference! This was my wife’s hand; there was -my ring. But who was my wife?</p> - -<p>I felt like a man in a bad dream. I do not -know if I spoke or not; but every fibre of me was -crying out aloud, as it were, in a frenzy. I suppose -I turned, or looked; at any rate my companion, as -if in answer to a question, said composedly:</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, it is so.” At the same moment, putting -up her veil with her right hand, she disclosed -to me the features of Ottilie, the lady-in-waiting.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER VII</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">I must</span> have stared like a madman. For very -fear of my own violence, I dared not move or -speak. Mademoiselle Ottilie, or, to call her by -her proper name, Madame de Jennico, very composedly -removed her veil from her hair, pushed -back her hood, and withdrew the hand which I -still unconsciously clutched. Then she turned -and looked at me as if waiting for me to speak -first. I said in a sort of whisper:</p> - -<p>“What does this mean?”</p> - -<p>“It means, Monsieur de Jennico, that, for your -own good, you have been deceived.”</p> - -<p>There was a little quiver in her voice. Was it -fear? Was it mockery? I thought the latter, -and the strenuous control I was endeavouring to -put upon my seething passion of fury and bewilderment -broke down. I threw up my arms, the natural -gesture of a man driven beyond bounds, and -as I did so felt the figure beside me make a sudden, -abrupt movement. I thought that she shrank -from me—that she feared lest I, <i>I</i>, Basil Jennico, -would strike <i>her</i>, a woman! This aroused me at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -once to a sense of my own position, and at the -same time to one of bitterest contempt for her. -But as I wheeled round to gaze at her, I saw that -whatever charges might be laid upon her—and -God knows she had wrought a singular evil upon -me!—the accusation of cowardice could not be -part of them. Her face showed white, indeed, -in the pale light, her features set; but her eyes -looked fearlessly into mine. Every line of her -figure expressed the most dauntless determination. -She was braced to endure, ready to face, what she -had drawn upon herself. This was no craven, -rather the very spirit of daring.</p> - -<p>“In God’s name,” I cried, “why have you done -this?”</p> - -<p>“And did you think,” she said, looking at me, -I thought, with a sort of pity, “that princesses, -out of fairy tales, are so ready to marry lovers of -low degree, no matter how rich or how gallant? -Oh, I know what you would say—that you are -well-born; but for all that, princesses do not wed -with such as you, sir!”</p> - -<p>Every drop of my blood revolted against the -smart of this humiliation. Stammering and protesting, -my wrath overflowed my lips.</p> - -<p>“But this deception,—this impossible, insane -fraud,—what is its object? What is <i>your</i> object?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -You encouraged me—you incited me. Confusion!” -I cried and clasped my head. “I think I -am going mad!”</p> - -<p>“Her Serene Highness thought that she would -like to see me settled in life,” said my bride, with -the old look of derision on her face.</p> - -<p>I seized her hand.</p> - -<p>“It was the Princess’s plan, then?” I asked in -a whisper; and it seemed to me as if everything -turned to crimson before my eyes.</p> - -<p>She met my look—and it must have been -a terrible one—with the same dauntlessness as -before, and answered, after a little pause, with -cool deliberation:</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was the Princess’s plan.”</p> - -<p>The carriage drove on through the rain; and -again there was silence between us. My pulses -beat loud in my ears; I saw, as if written in fire, -the whole devilish plot to humiliate me for my presumption. -I saw myself as I must appear to that -high-born lady—a ridiculous aspirant whose claim -was too absurd even to be seriously dealt with. -And she, the creature who had lent herself to my -shame, without whose glib tongue and pert audacious -counsels I had never presumed, who had dared -to carry out, smiling, so gross a fraud, to wear my -ring and front me still—how was I to deal with her?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> - -<p>These were the thoughts that surged backward -and forwards in my mind, futile wreckage on -stormy sea, in the first passion of my anger.</p> - -<p>“You know,” I said at last, and felt like a man -who touches solid earth at last, “that this is no -marriage.”</p> - -<p>Her countenance expressed at this the most -open amazement and the most righteous indignation.</p> - -<p>“How, sir,” she cried—“has not the priest -wedded us? Are we not of the same faith, and -does not the same Church bind us? Have not -we together received a most solemn sacrament? -Have not you, Basil, and I, Marie Ottilie, sworn -faith to each other until death do us part? You -may like it or not, Monsieur de Jennico, but we -are none the less man and wife, as fast as Church -can make us.”</p> - -<p>As she spoke she smiled again, and looked at -me with that dimple coming and going beside the -curve of her lip.</p> - -<p>As they say men do at the point of some -violent death, so I saw in the space of a second -my whole life stretched before me, past and -future.</p> - -<p>I saw the two alternatives that lay to my hand, -and their full consequences.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> - -<p>I knew what the audacious little deceiver beside -me ignored—that it rested upon my pleasure -alone to acknowledge or not the validity of this -marriage. Let me take the step which as a man -of honour I ought to take, which as a Jennico and -my uncle’s heir I was pledged in conscience to -take, it was to hold myself up to universal mockery—and -I should lay bare before a grinning -world the whole extent of my pretensions and -their requital.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, let me keep my secret for a -while and seemingly accept my wife: the whole -point of the cursed jest would fail.</p> - -<p>Let me show the Princess that my love for her -was not so overpowering, nor my disappointment -so heart-breaking, but that I had been able to find -temporary compensation in the substitute with -whom she had herself provided me. There are -more souls lost, I believe, through the fear of ridicule -than through all the temptations of the world, -the flesh, and the devil!</p> - -<p>My resolution was promptly taken: my revenge -would be more exquisite and subtle than the trick -that had been played upon me.</p> - -<p>I would take her to my home, this damsel whom -no feeling of maidenly restraint, of womanly compassion, -had kept from acting so base a part; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -for a while, at least, not all the world should guess -but that in winning her my dearest wish had been -accomplished. Afterwards, when I had tamed that -insolent spirit, when I had taught this wild tassel-gentle -to come to my hand and fly at my bidding—and -I smiled to myself as I laid that plan which was -full as cruel as the deception that had been practised -upon me, and which I am ashamed to set out -in black and white before me now—afterwards, -when I chose to repudiate the woman who had -usurped my name through the most barefaced -imposture, if I knew the law both of land and -Church, I could not be gainsaid. I had warned her -that this marriage was no marriage. What could -a gentleman do more?</p> - -<p>A sudden calmness fell over me; it struck me -that the laugh would be on my side after all.</p> - -<p>My companion was first to speak. She settled -herself in the corner of the carriage something like -a bird that settles down in its nest, and, still with -her eyes, which now looked very dark in the uncertain -light, fixed upon me, said in a tone of the -utmost security:</p> - -<p>“You can beat me of course, if you like, and -you can murder me if you are very, very angry; -but you cannot undo what is done. I am your -wife!” She gave a little nod which was the perfection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -of impudence. She was like some wild thing -of the woods that has never seen a human being -before, and is absolutely fearless because of its absolute -ignorance. I ought to have pitied her, seeing -how young, how childish, she was. But though -there sprang into my heart strange feelings, and -that dimple tempted me more and more, there -was no relenting in my angry soul. Only I told -myself that my revenge would be sweet. And I -was half distraught, I think, between the conflict -of pride, disappointment, and the strange alluring -charm that this being who had so betrayed me -was yet beginning to have upon me.</p> - -<p>The speed of our four horses was slackening; -we were already on the mountain road which led to -my castle. There was a glimmer of moon again, -the rain-beat was silent on the panes, and I could -see from a turning in the road the red gleam of the -torch-bearers whom I had ordered for the bridal -welcome.</p> - -<p>The monstrous absurdity of the situation struck -me afresh, and my resolution grew firmer. How -could I expose myself, a poor tricked fool, to the -eyes of that people who regarded me as something -not unlike a demi-god? No, I would keep the -woman. She had sought me, not I her. I would -keep her for a space at least, and let no man suspect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -that she was not my choice. And then, in -the ripeness of time, when I would sell this old -rook’s nest and betake me home to England as a -dutiful nephew, why, then my lady Princess should -have her maid of honour back again, and see if -she would find it so easy to settle her in life once -more! What pity should I have upon her who -had no pity for me, who had sold her maiden -pride in such a sordid barter for a husband? This -was no mere tool of a woman’s scorn. No! Contemned -by her I had wooed, played with, no doubt -I had been; but I had seen enough of the relations -of the two girls not to know well who was the -moving spirit in all their actions. This lady had -had an eye to her own interests while lending herself -to my humiliation. Thinking upon it now -with as cool a brain as I might,—and once I had -settled upon my resolve, the first frenzy of my rage -died away,—I told myself that the new Madam -Jennico lied when she said it was altogether the -Princess’s plan; and indeed I afterwards heard -from her own lips that in this I had guessed but a -third of the actual truth.</p> - -<p>And now, as we were drawing close to the first -post where my over-docile and zealous retainers -were already raising a fearful clamour, and I -must perforce assume some attitude to face the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -people, I turned to my strange bride, and said -to her:</p> - -<p>“Do you think, then, it is the right of a husband -to strike or slay his wife? If so, I marvel -that you should have been so eager to enter upon -the wedded state.”</p> - -<p>She put out her hand to me, and for the first -time her composure wavered. The tears welled -into her eyes and her lip quivered.</p> - -<p>“No,” she said; “and therefore I chose you, -Monsieur de Jennico, not for your fine riches, not -for your pedigree,”—and here, the little demon! -it seemed she could not refrain from a malicious -smile under the very mist of her tears,—“but -because you are an Englishman, and incapable of -harshness to a woman.”</p> - -<p>“And so,” said I, not believing her disinterested -asseveration a whit, but with a queer feeling at my -heart at once bitterly angry at each word that -betrayed the determination of her deceit and her -most unwomanly machinations, and yet, and yet -strangely melted to her, “it is reckoning on my -weak good-nature that you have played me this -trick?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” she said, flushing, “I reckoned on your -manliness.” And then she added, with the most -singular simplicity: “I liked you, besides, too well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -to see you unhappily married, and the other Ottilie -would have made you a wretched wife.”</p> - -<p>I burst out laughing, for, by the manes of my -great-uncle, the explanation was comic! And she -fell to laughing too,—my servants must have -thought we were a merry couple! And, as she -laughed and I looked at her, knowing her now my -own, and looking at her therefore with other eyes, -I deemed I had never seen a woman laugh to such -bewitching purpose! And though I was full of -my cruel intent, and though I dubbed her false -and shameless and as deceitful a little cat as ever -a man could meet, yet the dimple drew me, and I -put my arms around her and kissed it. <i>As my lips -touched hers I knew I was a lost man!</i></p> - -<p>The next moment we were surrounded with a -tribe of leaping peasants, the horses were plunging, -torches were waving and casting shadows upon the -savage, laughing faces. If I had cursed myself for -my happy thought before, I cursed myself still -more now; but the situation had to be accepted. -And the way in which my bride, blushing crimson -from my kiss,—she who had no blush to spare for -herself before this night, adapted herself to it was -a marvel to me, as indeed all that I was to see or -learn of her during our brief moon of wedded life -was likewise to prove.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> - -<p>I am bound to say that the Princess herself could -not have behaved with a better grace than this -burgher daughter amid the wild peasants and their -almost Eastern fashion of receiving their liege lady.</p> - -<p>Within a little distance of the house it became -impossible to advance with the carriage, and we -were fain to order a halt and alight all in the -stormy wind, and proceed on foot through the -throng which had gathered thick and close about -the gates, and which even Schultz’s stout cane -failed to disperse. My wife—I did not call her so -then in my mind, but now I can call her by no -other name—my wife passed through them as if -she had done nothing all her life but receive the -homage of the people. She gave her hand to be -kissed to half a hundred fierce lips; she smiled at -the poor women who clutched the hem of her -gown and knelt before her. The flush my kiss -had called into being had not yet faded from her -cheek; there was a light in her eye, a smile upon -her lip. As I looked at her and watched I could -not but admit that there was no need for me to -feel ashamed of her, that night.</p> - -<p>I had sworn to give my bride a royal reception, -and a royal reception she received.</p> - -<p>Schultz had generously carried out his instructions. -We sat down to a sumptuous meal which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -would not have misbefitted the Emperor himself. -I could not eat. The acclamations and the rejoicings -struck cold upon my ear. But the bride—enigma -to me then as now—sat erect in her great -chair at the other end of the great table, and -smiled and drank and feasted daintily, and met my -eye now and again with as pretty and as blushing -a look as if I had chosen her among a thousand. -The gipsies played their maddening music—the -music of my dream—and the cries in the courtyard -rose now and then to a very clamour of -enthusiasm. Schultz, with a truly German sentimentality, -had presented his new mistress with a -large bouquet of white flowers. The smell of them -turned me faint. I knew that in the great room -beyond, all illuminated by a hundred wax candles, -was the portrait of my uncle, stern and solitary. I -would not have dared to go into that room that night -to have met the look of his single watchful eye.</p> - -<p>And yet, O God! how are we made and of -what strange clay! What would I not give now -to be back at that hour! What would I not give -to see her there at the head of my board once -more! What is all the world to me—what all the -traditions of my family—what even the knowledge -of her deceit and my humiliation, compared with -the waste and desolation of my life without her!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER VIII</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">And</span> now what I must set down of myself is so -passing strange that had I not, I myself, lived -through it, were I not now in an earthly hell for -the mere want of her, I could not have believed -that human nature—above all the superior quality -of human nature appertaining to Basil Jennico—could -be so weak a thing.</p> - -<p>I had meant to be master: I found myself a -slave! And slave of what? A dimple, a pair of -yellow eyes, veiled by long black lashes—a saucy -child!</p> - -<p>I had meant to have held her merely as my toy, -at the whim of my will and pleasure: and behold! -the very sound of her voice, the fall of her light -foot, would set my blood leaping; under the glance -of her wilful eye my whole being would become as -wax to the flame.</p> - -<p>In olden days people would have said I was -bewitched.</p> - -<p>I think, looking back on it all now, that it was -perhaps her singular dissimilarity from any other -woman I had ever met that began the spell. Had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -she opposed to my anger, on that memorable night -of our marriage, the ordinary arms of a woman discovered; -had she wept, implored, bewailed her -fate, who shall say that, even at the cost of my -vanity, I might not have driven her straight back -to her Princess? Who shall say that I should -have wished to keep her, even to save myself from -ridicule? It is impossible for me now to unravel -the tangled threads of that woof that has proved -the winding-sheet of my young happiness; but -this I know—this of my baseness and my better -nature—that once I had kissed her I was no -longer a free man. And every day that passed, -every hour I spent beside her, welded closer and -firmer the chains of my servitude.</p> - -<p>She was an enigma which I ever failed to solve. -That alone was alluring. Judged by her actions, -most barefaced little schemer, most arrant adventuress -plotting for a wealthy match, there was yet -something about her which absolutely forbade me -to harbour in her presence an unworthy thought -of her. Guilty of deceit such as hers had been -towards me, she ought to have displayed either a -conscience-stricken or a brazen soul: I found her -emanate an atmosphere not only of childlike innocence -but of lofty purity that often made me blush -for my grosser imaginings.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<p>She ought, by rights, to have feared me—to -have been humble at least: she was as proud as -Lucifer before the fall and as fearless as he when -he dared defy his Creator. She ought to have -mistrusted me, shown doubt of how I would treat -her: and alas! in what words could I describe the -confidence she gave me? so generous, so sublime, -so guileless. It would have forced one less enamoured -than myself into endeavouring to deserve it -for very shame!</p> - -<p>A creature of infinite variety of moods, with -never a sour one among them; the serenest temper -and the merriest heart I have ever known; a laugh -to make an old man young, and a smile to make a -young man mad; as fresh as spring; as young and -as fanciful! I never knew in what word she would -answer me, what thing she would do, in what -humour I should find her. Yet her tact was exquisite. -She dared all and never bruised a fibre -(till that last terrible day, my poor lost love!). -And besides and beyond this, there was yet another -thing about her which drew me on till I was -all lost in love. She was elusive. I never felt -sure of her, never felt that she was wholly mine. -Her tenderness—oh, my God, her tenderness!—was -divine, and yet I felt I had not all she had to -give. There was still a secret hanging upon that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -exquisite lip, a mystery that I had yet to solve, a -land that lay unexplored before me. And it comes -upon me like madness, now that she is gone from -me, perhaps for ever, that I may never know the -word of the riddle.</p> - -<p>I have said that the past is like a dream to look -back upon; no part of it is more dreamlike than -the days which followed my strange wedding. -They seemed to melt into each other, and yet it is -the memory of them which is at once my joy and -my torture now.</p> - -<p>At first she did not touch, nor did I, upon the -question which lay like a covered fire always smouldering -between us; and in a while it came about -with me that I lived as a gambler upon the pleasure -of the moment. And though in my heart I -had not told myself yet that I would give up my -revenge,—though it was hidden there, a sleeping -viper, cruel and implacable,—I strove to forget it, -strove to think neither of the future nor of the -past. I hung a curtain over my uncle’s picture, -at which old János nearly broke his heart. I -rolled up the pedigree very tight and rammed it -into a drawer ... and the autumn days seemed -all too short for the golden hours they gave me.</p> - -<p>No one came to disturb us in our solitude, no -hint from the outer world. We two were as apart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -in our honeymoon as the most jealous lovers could -wish. I knew not what had become of the Princess. -In very truth I could not bear to think of -her; the memory of the absurd part I had been -made to play was so unpalatable, was associated -with so much that was painful and humiliating, -and brought with it such a train of disquieting -reflections that I drove it from me systematically. -I never wanted to see the woman again, to hear -her voice, or even learn what had become of her. -That I never had one particle of lover’s love for -her was plainer than ever to me now, in the midst -of the new feelings with which my unsought bride -inspired me. I knew what love meant at last, and -would at times be filled with an angry contempt -for myself, that she who had proved herself so all -unworthy should be the one to have this power -upon me.</p> - -<p>Thus the days went by quite aimlessly. And -by-and-by as they went the thought of what I had -planned to do became less and less welcome to -me, not (to my shame be it said) for its wickedness, -but because I could not contemplate life -without my present happiness. And after yet a -while the idea (at first rejected as monstrous, -impossible, nay, even as a base breach of faith to -my dead uncle) that I might make the sacrifice of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -my Jennico pride and actually content myself after -all with this unfit alliance, began to take shape -within me. Gradually this idea grew dearer to -me hour by hour, though I still in secret held to -the possibility of my other plan, as a sort of “rod -in pickle” over the head of my perverse companion, -and caressed it now and again in my -inmost soul—when she was most provoking—as -a method to bring her to my knees in dire humiliation, -but only to have the ultimate sweetness of -nobly forgiving her. For Ottilie was far from -showing a proper spirit of contrition or a fitting -sense of what she owed me; and this galled me at -times to the quick. I had never ceased to entertain -the resolve of taming the wild little lady, -although I found it increasingly difficult to begin -the process.</p> - -<p>Alone we were by no means lonely, even though -the days fell away into a month’s length. We -rode together, we drove, we walked; she chattered -like a magpie, and I never knew a second’s dulness. -She whipped my blood for me like a frosty -wind, and, or so it seemed to me, took a new -bloom, a new beauty in her happiness. For she -was happy. The only sour visage in Tollendhal -at the time was, I think, that of the strange nurse. -I had found her waiting in my wife’s bedroom the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -night of our homecoming. She never spoke to -me during the whole time of her stay, nor to -Schultz, although he was her countryman. With -the others, of course (saving János) she could not -have exchanged a word, and but that she spoke -with her mistress sometimes, I should have thought -her dumb. That woman hated me. I have seen -her eyes follow me about as if she would willingly -murder me; but her nursling she loved in quite as -vehement a fashion, and therefore I bore with her.</p> - -<p>We had been married a week when Ottilie first -made allusion to the Princess. We were to ride -out on that day, and she came down to breakfast -all equipped but for one boot.</p> - -<p>I have never seen so daintily untidy a person as -she was in all my life. Her hair smelt of fresh -violets, but there was always a twist out of place, -or a little curl that had broken loose. Her clothes -were of singular fineness and richness, but she -would tear them and tatter them like a very -schoolgirl romp. And so that morning she tripped -in with one pink satin bedroom slipper and one -yellow leather riding boot. I would not let her -send for her dark-visaged attendant to repair the -neglect, but fetched the boot myself and knelt to -put it on. As I took off the slipper I paused for -a moment weighing it in my hand. It was so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -little a thing, so slender, so pretty! She looked -down at me with a smile, and said composedly:</p> - -<p>“Do you think, sir, that the other Ottilie could -have put on that shoe?”</p> - -<p>It was, as I said, the first time that the subject -had been mentioned between us since the night of -our marriage. I felt as if a cloud came over me, -and looked up darkly at her. It was not wise, -surely, I thought in my heart, to touch upon what -I was willing to forget. But she had no misgiving. -She slipped out from under her long riding -skirt the small unbooted foot in its shining pink -silk stocking, and said:</p> - -<p>“You would <i>not</i> have liked, Monsieur de Jennico, -to have acted lady’s-maid to her, for you are -very fastidious, as it did not take me long to find -out. Oh,” she went on, “if you knew how grateful -you ought to be to me for preventing you from -marrying her! You would have been so unhappy, -and you deserved a better fate.”</p> - -<p>“But I thought,” said I—and such was my -weakness that the sight of her pretty foot took -away my anger, and I was all lost in the discovery -of how everything about her seemed to curve: -her hair in its ripples, her lip in its arch, her -nostrils, her little chin, her lithe young waist, -and now, her foot—“I thought,” and as I spoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -I took it into my hand, “it was the Princess’s -plan.”</p> - -<p>“Did I say so?” she said lightly. “That woman -was never capable of a plan in her life! No, sir, -I always made her do what I liked. Her intelligence -was just brilliant enough to allow her -to realise that she had better follow my advice. -Will you put on my boot, sir? Ah! what treachery.” -I held her tightly by the heel and looked -up well pleased at her laughing face—I loved to -watch her laugh—and then I kissed her silk stocking -and put the boot on. To such depths had I -come in my unreasoning infatuation. I felt no -anger with her for the revelation which, indeed, -as I think I have previously set down, was from -the beginning scarcely news to me. I had yet to -learn how completely innocent of all complicity in -the deception played upon me was her poor Serenity, -how innocent even of the pride and contempt -I still attributed to her!</p> - -<p>The season for the chase had opened; once or -twice I had already been out with the keepers -after stags, or wild boars, and my wife, a pretty -figure in her three-cornered hat and fine green -riding suit, had ridden courageously at my side. -At the beginning of the third week we made a -journey higher into the mountains and stayed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -few days at a certain hunting-box, the absolute -isolation of which seemed by contrast to make -Tollendhal a very vortex. The wild place pleased -her fancy. We had some splendid boar-hunting -in the almost inaccessible passes of the mountains, -and Ottilie showed herself as keen at the chase as -I, although, woman-like, she shrank from the finish. -She vowed she loved the loneliness, the simplicity, -of the rough wood-built lodge, the savageness of -the scenery. She loved too the novel excitement -of the life, the long day’s riding, the sleepy supper -by the roaring wood fire, with the howl of the dogs -outside, and the cry of the autumn wind about the -heights. She begged me with pretty insistence -that we should come back and spend the best -part of the coming month in this airy nest.</p> - -<p>“We are more alone,” she said coaxingly, with -one of her rare fits of tenderness. “You are more -mine, Basil.” And I promised her that we should -only return to Tollendhal to settle matters with the -steward and provide ourselves with what we wanted, -and then that we should have a new honeymoon. -I would have promised anything at such a moment. -It is the truth that in those days, somehow, we -had, as she said, grown closer to each other.</p> - -<p>On the last night, wearied out by the long hours -on horseback, she had fallen asleep as she sat in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -a great carved wooden chair by the flaming hearth, -while I sat upon the other side, wakeful, watching -her, full of thought. She looked all a child as she -slept, her face small and pale and tired, the shadow -of the long lashes very black upon her cheeks. And -then came upon me like a sort of nightmare the -memory of what I had meant to make of this -young creature who had trusted herself to me. -For the first time I faced my future boldly, and -took a great resolve in the silence, listening to the -fall of her light breath, and the sullen roar of the -wind in the pine forest without.</p> - -<p>I resolved to sacrifice my pride and keep my -low-born wife.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER IX</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">It was</span> full of this resolve, with an uplifted consciousness -of my own virtue, that I started next -morning beside her upon our homeward way. The -day was very bright; and the bare trees, with here -and there a yellow or red leaf, showed against a sky -of palest blue. There was a frost about us, and our -horses were fresh and full of pranks, as we wound -down the rocky paths. My wife, too, was in a skittish -humour, which irritated me a little as being ill-assorted -to my own high-strung feelings and my -secret sense of magnanimity. She mocked at my -solemn face, she sang ends of silly songs to herself. -I would have spoken to her of what was on my heart; -I would have had her grateful to me, conscious of -her own sin and my generosity. But I could get -her to hearken to no serious speech. She called -me “Monsieur de la Faridondaine,” and plucked -a bunch of ash berries as we rode, and stuck them -over one ear, and asked me, her face dimpling, if -it was not becoming to her. And then, when I -still urged that I would talk of grave matters, she -pulled a grimace, and fell to mimicking Schultz<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -with “Jawohl, Gnädigster Herr,” till I was fain to -laugh with her and put off my sermon till the audience -was better disposed.</p> - -<p>But my heart was something sore against her. -And when we reached home, I found <i>that</i> awaiting -me which awoke a flame of the fierce resentment -of the first hour of discovery. It was a letter from -my mother in answer to the wild, inflated, triumphant -lucubration I had sent her on the eve of my -wedding-day. I had, of course, not attempted to -undeceive her—in fact, as I have already set down, -it was only within the last twenty-four hours that -I had settled upon a definite plan of action. My -dear mother, who dearly loved, as she herself admitted, -the princes of this earth, was in a tremendous -flutter at my exalted alliance. I read her -words, her proud congratulations, with a feeling -of absolute nausea. My brother, she wrote, was -torn betwixt a sense of the increased family importance -and the greenest envy, that I, who had paid -no price of honour for the gaining of them, should -have risen to such heights of grandeur and wealth. -Not hearing from me since the great announcement, -she had ventured (so she confessed) to confide my -secret to a few dear friends, and “it had got about -strangely,” she added naïvely. The whole Catholic -world, the whole English world of fashion, was ringing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -with the news of the great Jennico match. In -fact, the poor lady was as nearly beside herself with -pride and glory when she wrote to me, as I had -been when I gave her the news. I did not—I -am glad to say this—I did not for a second waver -in my resolution of fidelity to my wife, but I told -myself, with an intolerable sense of injury, that I -could never face the shame of returning to England -again; that the full sacrifice entailed upon -me was not only the degradation of an unsuitable -alliance, but that hardest of trials to the true-blooded -Englishman, perpetual expatriation!</p> - -<p>In this grim and bitter temper I marched into -the room where I now sit, and drew back the -curtain from my uncle’s picture and took forth -the pedigree from its hidden recess. The old -man wore, as I knew he would, a most severe -countenance.</p> - -<p>But I turned my back upon him in a disrespectful -fashion I had never dared display during his -life, and spread out again that fateful roll of parchment -on the table before me, while with penknife -and pumicestone I sought to efface all traces of -that vainglorious entry that mocked me in its -clear black and white. The blood was surging in -my head and singing in my ears, when I heard a -light step, and looking up saw Ottilie. She could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -not have come at a worse moment. She held -letters in her hand, which upon seeing me she -thrust into her pocket with a sly look and something -of a blush. She too, it seemed, had found -a courier awaiting her; the secretness of the action -stirred the heat of my feelings against her -yet more. But I strove to be calm and judicial.</p> - -<p>“Ottilie,” I said, “come here. I have to converse -with you on matters of importance.”</p> - -<p>She drew near me; pouting and with a lagging -step, like a naughty child.</p> - -<p>“That sacred pedigree,” she said, and thrust -out her under-lip. She spoke in French, which -gave the words altogether a different meaning, -and in my then humour I was hugely shocked to -hear such an expression from her lips.</p> - -<p>“You behave strangely,” I said, with coldness, -not to be mollified by the half-pleading, half-mischievous -glance she cast upon me, “and you speak -like a child. There has been enough of childishness, -enough of folly, in this business. It is time -to be serious,” I said, and struck the table with -my flat palm as I spoke.</p> - -<p>“Well, let us be serious,” she retorted, slapping -the table too, and then sat down beside me, propping -her chin upon her hands in her favourite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -attitude. “Am I not serious?” she proceeded, -looking at me with a face of mock solemnity. -“Well, Mr. my husband, what do you wish of -me?”</p> - -<p>“Have you ever thought, Ottilie,” said I, “of -the position you have placed me in? I have been -obliged to-day to come to a grave resolution—I -have had to make up my mind to give up my -country and remain here for the rest of my life. -It is in direct defiance to my uncle’s commands -and last wishes, and it is no pleasant thing to an -Englishman to give up his native land.”</p> - -<p>“If so, why do it?” she said coolly. “I am -quite willing to go to England. In fact, I should -rather like it.”</p> - -<p>“Because, before heaven, madam,” said I, irritated -beyond bounds, “you have left me no other -alternative. Do you think I am going home to be -a laughing-stock among my people?”</p> - -<p>“Then,” she said with lightning quickness, -“you broke your promise of secrecy. It is your -own fault: you should have kept your word.”</p> - -<p>Struck by the irrefutable truth of this remark, -although at the same time my wrath was secretly -accumulating against her for this systematic indifference -to her own share in a transaction where -she was the chief person to blame, I kept silence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -for a moment, drumming with my fingers on the -table.</p> - -<p>“Eh bien!” she said at last, with a note of -amusement and tender indulgence in her voice as -a mother might speak to her unreasonable infant. -“This terrible resolution taken, what follows? -You have effaced, I see, your entry in the famous -pedigree, and you would now fill it up with the -detail of your real alliance? Is that it?”</p> - -<p>I glanced up at her: her eyes were dancing -with an eager light, her lip trembling as if over -some merry word she yet forbore to speak. Her -want of sympathy in sight of my evident distress -was hard to bear.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I answered, “the pedigree must be -filled up. I don’t even know your whole name, -nor who your father was, nor yet your mother. -I have your word for it, however,” I said, and the -sentence was bitter to me to speak, “that your -family was originally of burgher origin.”</p> - -<p>“Put down,” she answered, “Marie Ottilie Pahlen, -daughter of the deceased Herrn Geheimrath -Baron Pahlen, Hof Doctor to his Serene Highness -the Reigning Duke of Lausitz.”</p> - -<p>The pen dropped from my hand.</p> - -<p>“Your father was a doctor?” I asked in an extinguished -voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ennobled,” she returned promptly, “after successfully -piloting his Serene Highness through a -bad attack of jaundice.”</p> - -<p>“And your mother?” I murmured, clinging yet -to the hope that on the mother’s side at least the -connection might prove a little more worthy of -the House of Jennico.</p> - -<p>She hesitated and glanced at me. Once more I -seemed to see some inner source of mirth bubble -on her lip; or was it only that she was possessed -by the very spirit of mischief? Anyhow, she -forced her smile to gravity again and answered me -steadily, while her eyes sought mine with a curious -determined meaning at variance with the mock -meekness of the rest of her countenance.</p> - -<p>“Put down, Monsieur de Jennico,—’and of -Sophia Müller, likewise deceased,’ and add if you -like, ’once personal maid to her Serene Highness -the Dowager Duchess, Marie Ottilie of Lausitz.’”</p> - -<p>I sat like a man struck silly, and in the tide of -fury that swept over me my single lucid thought -was that if I spoke or moved I should disgrace -myself. And she chose that moment, poor child, -to come over to me and place her arms round my -neck, and say caressingly in my ear:</p> - -<p>“Write it, write it, sir, and then tell me that, -seeing that I am I, and that I should not be different<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -from myself were I the daughter of the -Emperor, all this matters little to you since we -love each other.”</p> - -<p>I put her from me: my hands were trembling, -but I was very gentle. I brought her round to -face me, and she awaited my answer with a triumphant -smile. It was that smile undid me and -her. She made too sure of me—she had conquered -me too easily all along.</p> - -<p>“You ask overmuch,” I said when I could command -my voice enough to speak, “you take overmuch -for granted. You forget how you have -deceived me; how you have betrayed me. I am -willing,” I said, “to believe you have not been all -to blame, that you were encouraged and upheld by -another, but this does not exonerate you from the -chief share in a very questionable transaction.”</p> - -<p>The words fell cuttingly. I saw how the smile -faded from her face, saw how the pretty dimple -lingered a second like a pale ghost of itself, and -then was lost in the droop of her lip, which trembled -like a chidden babe’s. And I took a cruel -joy to think I had hit her at last. But in a second -or two she spoke with all her old courage.</p> - -<p>“It is well,” she said, “to blame where blame is -due. If you wish to blame any one for our marriage, -blame me alone. The other Ottilie never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -received your letter; never knew you wanted to -marry her; had nothing to say to what you call -my betrayal of you. She would have prevented -this marriage if she could. Nay, I will tell you -more: I believe she might even have married -you had I given her the chance. But I knew -you would marry her solely because of her position, -of her title; that you had no love for her -beyond your insane love of her royal blood. I -thought you worthy of better things; I thought -you could rise above so pitiable a weakness; I -thought you could learn of love that love alone is -worth living for! And if you have not learned, -if indeed, my scholar, you have been taught nothing -in love’s school, if you can lay bare your soul -now and tell yourself that you would rather have -had the wife you wanted in your overweening -vanity than the wife I am to you, why then, sir, I -have made a grievous mistake, and I am willing to -acknowledge that I have committed an irrevocable -wrong both to you and to myself.”</p> - -<p>Now, as she spoke, I was torn by a strange mixture -of feelings, and my love for her contended -with my pride, my wounded vanity, my sense of -injury. I could not in truth answer that I would -rather have been wedded to the Princess, for one -thing had these weeks made clear to me above all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -things, and that was that married life with her -would have been intolerable. But my anger -against the woman I did love in spite of myself -was not lessened by the tone of reproachful superiority -she assumed; and because of the truth of -her rebuke it was the harder for my self-love to -bear. Before I could muster words clear enough -and severe enough to answer her with, she -proceeded:</p> - -<p>“Come, Basil, come, rise above this failing -which is so unworthy of you. Throw that musty -old pedigree away before it eats all the manliness -out of your life. What does it mean but that you -can trace your family up to a greater number of -probable rascals, hard and selfish old men, than -another? Be proud of yourself for what you are; -be proud of your forefathers, indeed, if they have -done fine deeds of valour, or virtue; but this cant -about birth for birth’s sake, about the superiority -of aristocracy as aristocracy—what does it amount -to? It is to me the most foolish of superstitions. -Was that old man,” she asked, pointing to my -uncle, who frowned upon her murderously—“was -that old man a better man than his heiduck -János? Was he a braver soldier? Was he a -better servant to <i>his</i> master? Was he more -honest in his dealings? shrewder in his counsel?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -I tell you I honour János as much as I would have -honoured him. I tell you that if I love you, I -love you for what you are, not because you are -descended from some ignorant savage king, not -because you can boast that the blood of the worst -of men and sovereigns, the most profligate, the -most treacherous, the most faithless, Charles -Stuart, runs in your veins—I hope, sir, as little -of it as possible.”</p> - -<p>I sprang to my feet. To be thus rated by her -who should be kneeling for forgiveness! It was -intolerable.</p> - -<p>“I think,” I thundered, “that, considering -your position, a little humility would be more -becoming than this attitude! You should remember -that you are here on tolerance only; that it -is to my generosity alone that you owe the right -to call yourself an honest woman.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” said she, as fiercely as -I had spoken myself.</p> - -<p>“I mean,” said I—“I mean, madam, that you -are what I choose to make you. That marriage -you so skilfully encompassed is, if I choose it, no -marriage.”</p> - -<p>She put her hands to her head like one who has -turned suddenly giddy.</p> - -<p>“You married me before God’s altar,” she said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -in a sort of whisper; “you married me, and you -took me home.”</p> - -<p>I was still too angry to stay my tongue.</p> - -<p>With a bitter laugh, “I married the Princess,” -I said, “but I took the servant home.”</p> - -<p>A burning tide of blood rushed to her brow; I -saw it unseeing, as a man does in passion; but -I have lived that scene over and over again, -waking and dreaming, since, and every detail of -it is stamped upon my brain. Next she grew -livid white, and spread out her hands, as though -a precipice had suddenly opened before her; and -then she cried:</p> - -<p>“And this is your English honour!” and turning -on her heel she left me.</p> - -<p>The scorn of her tone cut me like a whip. I -swore a mighty oath that I would never forgive her -till she sued for pardon. She must be taught who -was master. In solitude she should reflect, and -learn to rue her sins to me—her audacity—her -unwarrantable presumption—her ingratitude!</p> - -<p>All in my white heat of anger I summoned -János and bade him tell his mistress’s nurse that -I had gone into the mountains for a week. And -then I ordered a fresh horse, and followed only -by the old man, dashed off like one possessed into -the rocky wastes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> - -<p>Alone in the solitary hut, by that hearth where -but the night previous my heart had overflowed -with such tenderness for her, I sat and nursed my -grievances and brooded upon my wrongs till they -grew to overpowering size and multiplied a thousandfold; -and curious it is that what I thought -of most was the bitter unfairness to me, the -monstrous injustice of her contempt, at the very -moment when I had meant to sacrifice my life -and prospects to her. I told myself she did -not love me, had never loved me, and worked -myself to a pitch of frenzy over that thought. -The memory of her announcement on this afternoon, -the full knowledge of her deceit, the confession -of her worse than burgher origin, weighed -not now one feather-weight in my resentment. -That I had cast from me as the least of my -troubles; so can a man change and so can love -swallow up all other passions! No doubt, I told -myself, she was mocking me now in her own -mind; no doubt she reckoned that her poor infatuated -fool would come creeping back with all -promptitude and beg for her smile. She should -learn at last that she had married a man; not till -I saw her down at my very feet would I take her -back to my breast.</p> - -<p>All next day I hunted in a bitter wind and in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -a bitter temper. There were clouds arising, my -huntsmen told me, that looked very like snow -clouds, and I must beware being snowed up upon -the height. I was in the humour to welcome -hardship and even danger, and so the whole day -we rode after an old rogue boar and came back -in darkness, at no small risk, empty handed, and -the roughness of my temper by no means improved. -Next day the weather still held up, and -again I hunted. My men must have wondered -what had come over their erstwhile genial master. -Even my uncle could not have shown them a -harder rule or ridden them with less consideration -through the hardest of ways in the teeth of the -most fiendish of winds.</p> - -<p>That night, again, I sat and brooded by the -leaping flame of the pine logs, but it was in a -different mood. All my surly determination, my -righteous indignation, had melted from me, leaving -me as weak as water. Of a sudden in the -closest heat of the chase there had come to me -an awful vision of what I had done; a terrible -swift realisation of the insult I had flung at the -face of the woman who was indeed the wife of -my heart and love. Oh, God, what had I done? -I had sought to humble her—I had but debased -myself! Through the whole day her words, “Is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -this your English honour?” had rung a dismal -rhythm in my ear to the beat of my horse’s hoofs -on the hard ground, to the call of the horn amid -the winding rocks. The vision of her faded smile, -of her dimple paled to a pitiable ghost, of her -babyish drooping lip, and then of her white face -struck with such scorn, haunted me to madness. -I sickened from my food as I sat to my supper, -and put down my cup untasted. And now as the -wind whistled and the foreboded storm was gathering -upon us, the longing to see her, to be with -her, to kneel at her feet—yes, <i>I</i> would now be -the one to kneel—came upon me with such -violence that I could not withstand it.</p> - -<p>I ordered my horses. I would listen to no -remonstrance, no warning. I must return to -Tollendhal, I said, were all the powers of darkness -leagued against me. And return I did. It -was a piece of foolhardiness in which I ran, unheeding, -the risk of my life; but the Providence -that protects madmen protected me that night, -and Janos and I arrived in safety through a gale -of wind and a fall of snow that might indeed have -proved our death. All covered with rime I ran -into the house and up to the door of her room. -It was past midnight, and there I paused for a -moment fearing to disturb her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> - -<p>Two or three of the women came pattering -down the passage to me and with expressive -gestures addressed me volubly; one of the girls -was weeping. I could not understand a word -they said, but with a new terror I burst open -the door of the bedroom. In this appalling -dread I realised for the first time how I loved -my wife!</p> - -<p>The room was all empty and all dark; I called -for lights. There was no trace of her presence; -her bed had not been slept in. Like a maniac -I tore about the house, seeking her, shrieking -her name, demanding explanations from those to -whom my speech meant nothing. I recked little -of my dignity, little of the impression I must -create upon my household! And at last János, -his wrinkled face withered up and contorted with -the trouble he dared not speak, gave me the -tidings that the gracious lady had gone. She -and her nurse had set forth on foot and left no -message with any one.</p> - -<p>What need is there for me to write down what -I endured that black night? When I look back -upon it it is as one may look back upon some -terrible nightmare, some hideous memory of delirium. -She had left me, and left me thus, without -a word, and with but one sign. The cursed pedigree<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -was still spread upon the table where we -had quarrelled. I found upon it her wedding -ring. A great cross had been drawn over the -half-written entry of our marriage. That was all, -but it was surely enough. The jewels I had given -her were carefully packed in their cases and laid -upon a table in her room. Her own things had -been gathered together the day of her departure, -which was the day I left her, and they had been -fetched the next morning by some strange servant -in an unknown travelling coach. More -than this I have not been able to glean, for -the storm has rendered the ways impassable; but -it is rumoured that the Countess de Schreckendorf -is dead, and that the Princess also has left the -country.</p> - -<p>I have no more to say. It is only two nights -ago since I came home to such misery, and how I -have passed the hours, what needs it to set forth? -At times I tell myself that it is better so, that she -is false and base, and that I were the poorest of -wretches to forgive her. But at times again I see -the whole naked truth before me, and I know that -she was to me what no woman can be again. -And my uncle looks down at me as I write, with -a sour frowning face, and seems—strange it is, -yet true—to revile me now with bitter scorn, not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -for having kept her, the roturière, but for having -driven her from my castle!</p> - -<p>“Thou hadst her; thou couldst not hold her,” -he seems to snarl.</p> - -<p>Old man, old man, it is your teaching that has -undone me; do you reproach me now that it has -wrought my ruin?</p> - -<p class="p2">Basil Jennico flung his pen from him; the logs -in the hearth had burnt themselves to white ash; -his candles were guttering in their sockets, and -behind the close-drawn curtains the faint dawn -was spreading over a world of snow. The wind -still howled, the storm was still unabated.</p> - -<p>“Another day,” groaned he, “another hateful -day!” He flung his arms before him and his -head down upon them. So sleep came upon him; -and so old János, creeping in a little later, red-eyed -from his watchful night, found him. The sleeper -woke as the man, with hands rough and gnarled, -yet tender as a woman’s, strove to lift him to an -easier attitude; woke and looked at him with a -fixed semi-conscious stare.</p> - -<p>“Ottilie!” he cried wildly, and suddenly brought -back to grey reality stopped and clasped his head. -There was in the old servant’s hard and all but -immutable face so wistful a yearning of kindred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -sorrow that, suddenly catching sight of it in the -midst of his despair, the young man broke down -and fell forward like a child upon that faithful -breast.</p> - -<p>“Courage, honoured master,” said János, “we -will find her again.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="pc4 elarge">PART II</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/b1.jpg" width="100" height="25" - alt="" - title="" /> -</div> - -<h2 class="p2">CHAPTER I</h2> - -<p class="pch1"><span class="smcap">Memoir of Captain Basil Jennico (a portion, written -early in the year 1772, in his rooms at Griffin’s, -Curzon Street)</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Home</span> in England once again, if home it can -be called, this set of hired chambers, so dreary -within, with outside the lowering fog and the -unfamiliar sounds that were once so familiar. -It is all strange, after eight years’ exile; and the -grime, the noise, the narrow limits, the bustle of -this great city, weary me after the noble silence, -the wide life, at Tollendhal.</p> - -<p>It was with no lightening of my thoughts that -I saw the white cliffs of old England break the -sullen grey of the horizon, with no patriotic joy -that I set foot on my native soil again, but rather -with a heavy, heavy heart. What can this land -be to me now but a land of exile? All that -makes home to a man I have left behind me.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<p>I hardly know why I have resumed the thread -of this miserable story. God knows that I have -no good thing to narrate, and that this setting -forth, this storing, as it were, of my bitter harvest -of disappointments, can bring no solace with -it. And yet man must hope as long as life -lasts; and the hope keeps springing up again, in -defiance of all reason, that, somehow, some day, -we shall meet again. Therefore I write, in order -that, should such a day come, she may read -for herself and learn how the thought of her -filled each moment of my life since our parting; -that she may read how I have sought her, -how I have mourned for her; that she may know -that my love has never failed her.</p> - -<p>This it is that heartens me to my task. Moreover, -all else is so savourless that I know not -how otherwise to fill the time. I have been -here five weeks; there are many houses where -I am welcome, many friends who would gladly -lend me their company, many places where young -men can find distraction of divers kinds and degrees; -but I have not succeeded in bringing -myself to take up the new life with any zest: -I had rather dwell upon the past in spite of all -its bitterness, than face the desolation of the -present.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was on the third day of the great storm -that the pen fell from my hand at Tollendhal, and -for four and twenty hours more that self-same -storm raged in violence. One word of my old -servant’s had brought me on a sudden to a -definite purpose. I was full of eager hope of -tracing her, of finding her, once it were possible -to start upon the quest. For the gale which -kept me prisoner must have retarded her likewise; -and even with two days’ start, I told myself, -she could not have gone far upon her road.</p> - -<p>But I reckoned without the difficulties which -the first great snowfall of the year, before the -hard frost comes to make it passable for sledging, -was creating for us in these heights where -the drifts fill to such depth. Day and night my -fellows worked to cut a way for me down to the -imperial road; and I worked with them, watched, -encouraged them, and all, it seemed, to so little -purpose that I thought I should have gone mad -outright. The cruel heavens now smiled, now -frowned, upon our work, so that, between frost -and thaw and thaw and frost, the task was -doubled, and my prison bars seemed to grow -stronger instead of less.</p> - -<p>In this way it came to pass that it was full -ten days from the time that she had left Tollendhal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -that I was at length able to start forth -in pursuit.</p> - -<p>My first stage was of course to the castle of -the old Countess Schreckendorf, where I found -the place well-nigh deserted, its mistress having -been, even as I had been informed, a fortnight -dead and buried. But there was a servant in -charge of the empty, desolate house, and from -her I gleaned tidings both precise and sufficient.</p> - -<p>The Princess had remained quietly at Schreckendorf -during the weeks which had followed -upon my marriage, but on the day previous to -our return to Tollendhal from the shooting-lodge, -a couple of couriers had arrived at the Countess’s -gates close one upon the other, bringing, it would -seem, important letters for the Princess, who had -been greatly agitated upon receipt of them. -She had hastily despatched a mounted messenger -to my wife, whether with a private communication -from herself or merely to forward missives -addressed to her from her own home I know -not; but at any rate the papers which Ottilie -had hidden from me that fatal day were brought -her by this man. After she left Tollendhal a -few hours later, my wife had arrived at Schreckendorf -in a peasant’s cart. That same evening -two travelling coaches, bringing ladies, officers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -and servants, had made their appearance at the -castle; it was one of these coaches which went -to the stronghouse next morning and bore away -Ottilie’s belongings. In the afternoon the whole -party, including my wife, had set forth in great -haste for the north, despite universal warning of -the gathering storm. There could be no doubt -but that their destination was Lausitz, most probably -the Residence itself, Budissin.</p> - -<p>When I had ascertained all this I promptly -decided upon my course. Taking with me János -only, I instantly started for the next post-town, -where we were able to secure fresh horses, and -whence we pushed on the same night some twenty -miles farther.</p> - -<p>Not until the sixth evening, however, despite our -extraordinarily hard travelling, did we, mounted -upon a pair of sorry and worn-out nags, find ourselves -crossing the bridge under the towered gates -of Budissin. That was then the sixteenth day -from the date of my wife’s flight.</p> - -<p>It seemed a singularly deserted town as we -stumbled over the cobbles of the streets, with -the early dusk of the November day closing in -upon us—so few people passed us as we went, -so few windows cast a light into the gloom, so -many houses and shops presented but blank closed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -shutter-fronts. János knew his way, having ridden -with my uncle in all this district during the -late war. There was a very good inn, he told me, -on the Burg Platz, in the shadow of the palace; -and as nothing could suit my purpose better, to -the “Silver Lion of Lusatia” we therefore turned -our horses’ heads.</p> - -<p>It was cheering, after our long wayfaring, and -the dismal nightmare-like impression of our passage -through the empty town, to see the casements -of that same “Silver Lion” shine afar off -ruddily; and my heart leaped within me to discern, -dimly sketched behind it, the towering outline -of the palace, wherein, no doubt, my lost -bird had found refuge.</p> - -<p>The voice of the red-faced host who, at sound -of clattering hoofs before his door, came bustling -to greet us as fast as his goodly bulk would allow, -struck on my ear with cheering omen.</p> - -<p>“God greet ye, my lords!” he cried, as he -lent a shoulder for my descent; “you are welcome -this bitter night to fireside and supper. Enter, -my lords; I have good wine, good beds, good -supper, for your lordships, and the best beer that -is brewed between Munich and Berlin. Joseph, -thou rag, see to his lordship’s horses; wife, come -greet our worshipful visitors!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> - -<p>I write down the jargon much as I heard it, -for, as I write, I am back again at that moment -and feel once more the glow of hope which crept -into my heart, even as the genial warmth of the -room unbent my frozen limbs. I had reached my -journey’s end, and the old rhyme in the play, -“journeys end in lovers meeting,” rang a merry -burden in my thoughts.</p> - -<p>I marvel now that my hopes should have been -so forward; that I should have reckoned so much -more upon her woman’s love than upon her -woman’s pride. Indeed, I had not deemed my -sin so great but that my penitence would amply -atone. So I was all eagerness to satisfy my hungering -heart by tidings of her, and could hardly -sit still to my supper—though we had ridden -hard and I was famished—till I had induced -mine host to sit beside me and crack a bottle -of his most recommended Rhenish, which should -unloose a tongue that scarcely needed such inducement. -For her sake, that no scandal might -be bruited about her fair name, I had determined -to proceed cautiously.</p> - -<p>“You have a fine town here, friend,” said I, -“so far as I can judge this dark night.”</p> - -<p>“Truly, your lordship may say so,” said he, -and smacked his lips that I might understand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -how great a relish this fruit of his cellar left on -a man’s palate.</p> - -<p>“But it has a deserted look,” said I idly, just -to encourage him in talk; “so many houses shut -up—so few people about.”</p> - -<p>He rolled the wine round his mouth in a reflective -manner, then swallowed it with a gulp, -and threw an uneasy look at me. At the same -instant there flashed upon my mind what, strange -as it may seem, I had clean forgotten in the turmoil -of my thoughts and the hurry of my pursuit: -the reason for the very state of affairs I -was commenting on—the plague of smallpox, the -malady that had driven the Princess to my land! -Ay, in very truth the town had a plague-stricken -look, and I felt myself turn pale to think my wife -had come back to this nest of infection.</p> - -<p>“The sickness,” said I then quickly,—“has it -abated here? Nay, I know all about it, man, and -have no fear of it. But how fares it in the town -and in the palace?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the sickness!” quoth mine host with a -great awkward laugh. “His lordship means these -few little cases of smallpox. Na, it had been -nothing, and is all over now; only folk were -such cowards and frightened themselves sick, -and families fled because of this same foolish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -fear. Now myself, as his lordship sees, myself -and my family and my servants, we have not -known a day’s ill-health, because we kept our -hearts up and drank good stuff. ’It is,’ as I said -to his Highness himself, who never left the place, -but went out in our midst, the noble prince, and -spat at fear (besides that he had already had it, -like myself),—’it is the wine,’ said I, ’or the beer, -if you know where to get it, that keeps a man -sound.’ And his Highness says to me——”</p> - -<p>But here I interrupted the speaker in a voice -the trembling of which I could not control.</p> - -<p>“Is the Duke at the palace now, then, with all -his household?”</p> - -<p>“He has been so, my lord,” said the man -eagerly, “up to the last week; so long, indeed, as -there was a suspicion of illness among us. But -now he is at the summer castle, Ottilienruhe, near -Rothenburg. ’Tis but three leagues from the -town. The Princess, sir, is always fond of Ottilienruhe, -even in this cold weather. And as she -has but just returned from visiting at another -Court, his Highness, her father, has gone to join -her thither. Our Princess, sir, is a most beautiful -young lady; nay, if you will allow me, I will show -you a portrait of her, which we have framed in my -wife’s room. A beautiful young lady, sir! There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -will be rare festivities when she weds her cousin, -the Margrave of Liegnitz-Rothenburg. We have -his portrait, too—a very noble gentleman! I -would show you these pictures; I think you would -admire them.”</p> - -<p>But I arrested him with a gesture, as, in the -hopes of distracting my attention from an awkward -topic, he was about to roll his bulk in quest -of these treasures.</p> - -<p>I had no wish, indeed, to feast my eyes upon -that face, the lineaments of which, with all their -beauty, I could not bear to recall. What was it -to me whom <i>that</i> Ottilie married? If they had -had a portrait of my Ottilie, indeed!... But, -sweet soul, she had told me herself of her obscurity -and unimportance.</p> - -<p>“And so,” said I, “they are at the summer -palace, your reigning family?”</p> - -<p>And though I had hugged the thought of her -dear living presence so close to me this night, -behind yonder palace walls, I nevertheless rejoiced -to learn that she was safer harboured.</p> - -<p>“The Princess has her retinue with her, I suppose?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ay,” said the innkeeper, rising as he spoke -and clacking his tongue again over the last drop -of his wine. “Though our Princess is so simple a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -lass, if I may say so without disrespect, and loves -not Court fashions. But she has one favourite -companion, and they are as sisters together, so -that when one sees her Highness, one may be -sure the Fräulein is not far distant. Oh, ay, sir, -they have returned from their travels together, -though I have heard it rumoured that one or two -of her Highness’s attendants have been left behind, -dead or ailing. Na, it is better to stay at -home: strange places are unwholesome!”</p> - -<p>He opened the stove door and shoved in two -or three great logs, and I turned and stretched my -limbs to the warmth with lazy content, and, for -the first time for many a long day and night, a -restful heart.</p> - -<p>To-morrow I should see her. When I slept that -night I dreamed golden dreams.</p> - -<p class="p2">The next day dawned upon a world all involved -in creeping grizzling mist, that seemed to ooze -even into the comfortable rooms of the “Silver -Lion”; that wrapped from my view the lofty -towers of the palace beyond my window, and -damped even my buoyant confidence. My good -János had the toothache, and though it was not -in him to complain, the sight of his swollen, suffering -face did not further encourage me to cheer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -A little before noon we mounted to ride forth to -Ottilienruhe in the dismal weather. Our garments, -despite the heiduck’s endless brushing, -bore many traces of our hard journey. We cut -but a poor figure, I thought, in these stained, -rusty clothes; and the young lord of Tollendhal -was ill-mounted upon the wretched jade, which -had, nevertheless, faithfully served him upon his -last cruel stage. The poor nag was yet full weary, -and stumbled and drooped her head, while János’s -white-faced bay might have stood for the very -image of starving antiquity.</p> - -<p>I winced as I thought of Ottilie’s mocking -glance; but the haste to see her overcame even -my delicate vanity.</p> - -<p>Following my host’s directions, who marvelled -greatly at our eccentricity that we should leave a -warm stove door and good cheer from mere travellers’ -curiosity on such a day, we pattered forth -through the town again—through streets yet -more ghost-like in their daylight emptiness than -they had seemed yestereven; pattered once more -across the wood of the bridge beneath which the -sullen waters ran, without appearing to run, as -grey and leaden as the heavens above.</p> - -<p>And after two hours’ dreary tramp along a -poplar-bordered, deserted road, we saw before us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -the gilded iron gateway of Ottilienruhe. Beyond -there was a vision of French gardens; of bowling-greens -all drenched; of flat terraces whereon the -yews, fantastically cut, stood about like the pieces -of a chessboard. Beyond that again rose the odd -Grecian porticos and colonnades, the Chinese cupolas, -appertaining to the summer pleasaunce of -the reigning house.</p> - -<p>It might have looked fair enough under bright -skies in summer weather, with roses on the empty -beds and sunshine on the little yellow spires; but -it seemed a most desolate place as it lay beneath -my eyes that noon. I told myself I should find -sunshine enough within, yet my heart lay heavy in -my breast.</p> - -<p>A sentry, with his pointed fur cap drawn down -over his eyes, with the collar of his great-coat -drawn up above his ears, so that of his countenance -only the end of a red nose was visible to -the world, marched up and down before the gates, -and, as we made ready to halt, challenged us -roughly.</p> - -<p>At the sound of his call two more sentries appeared -at different points, and tramped towards us -with suspicion in their bearing.</p> - -<p>Evidently the Duke was well guarded. I rode -a few steps forward, when, to my astonishment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -it being full peace-time, the fellow brought his -musket to the ready, and again cautioned me to -pass on my way.</p> - -<p>“But my way is to the palace,” I bawled to him -defiantly, despite the consciousness that the doubtful -impression I must myself create could not be -mitigated by the sight of János behind me. For -I am bound to say that in the plain garb I had -insisted on his donning, now much disordered, as -I have said, by our travels, with the natural grimness -of his countenance enhanced by a screw of -pain, a more truculent-looking ruffian it would -have been hard to find.</p> - -<p>But so far I did not anticipate any more serious -difficulty than what a few arguments could remove: -and I carried a heavy purse. So I added -boldly:</p> - -<p>“I have business at the palace.”</p> - -<p>The man lowered his weapon and came a step -nearer.</p> - -<p>“Whence come you?” he asked more civilly.</p> - -<p>“From Budissin,” said I.</p> - -<p>The musket instantly went up again, and its -bearer retreated hastily a couple of paces.</p> - -<p>“‘Tis against orders,” he said, “because of the -sickness; no one from Budissin may pass the -gates.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> - -<p>The sickness again! I had, then, by my impetuosity, -my haste to follow in her traces, but -raised a new barrier between us.</p> - -<p>I dismounted, threw my reins to János, and advanced -upon the soldier.</p> - -<p>“But, friend,” said I——</p> - -<p>The fellow covered me with his weapon.</p> - -<p>“Stand!” he cried roughly; “stand, or I fire!”</p> - -<p>I stood back stock-still. Here was a quandary -indeed!</p> - -<p>“But, my God!” I cried to him, “I am a traveller. -I have but passed through the town. I -have come these eighty leagues upon urgent business, -and I must see some one who I am told is -in the palace.”</p> - -<p>So saying I drew forth a louis d’or, a stock of -which I kept loose for such emergencies in my -side pocket, and tossed it to the rascal.</p> - -<p>“Now get me speech with a person in authority,” -said I.</p> - -<p>With one hand, and without lowering his fire-lock, -he nimbly caught the coin on the fling and -placed it in his mouth, after which he shook his -head and remarked indistinctly:</p> - -<p>“‘Tis no use.”</p> - -<p>And then at last my sorely-tried patience broke -down, impotent otherwise in front of his menacing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -barrel. I cursed him long and loud with that -choiceness and variety of epithet of which my -own squadron-life experience as well as my apprenticeship -to my great-uncle had given me a -command.</p> - -<p>The clamour we made first drew the other -soldiers, and next a little dapper officer from the -guard-room behind the inner gate, who ran out -towards us, and at the utmost pitch of his naturally -piping voice demanded in the name of all -gods, thunders, and lightning-blasts what the -matter was.</p> - -<p>My particular sentinel’s utterance was something -impeded by the louis d’or in his cheek, and -I was consequently able to offer an explanation -before him. Uncovering my head and bowing, I -introduced myself in elegant phraseology, though -of necessity, for the distance between us, in tones -more suited to the parade ground than to a -polite ceremony, and laid bare my unfortunate -position. I bewailed that through my brief halt -in Budissin, ignorant of the infection, I had evidently -made myself amenable to quarantine, and -requested his courteous assistance in the matter.</p> - -<p>My name was evidently quite unfamiliar to his -ears, but, perceiving that he had to deal with an -equal, the little officer at once returned my salute<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -with an extra flourish, and my civility by ordering -the sentry to stand aside. Then, advancing gingerly -in the mud to a more reasonable interval for -conversation, he informed me, with another sweeping -bow, that he was Captain Freiherr von Krappitz, -and that, while it would be his pleasure to -serve me in every possible manner, he regretted -deeply that his orders were such that he could -only ratify the sentry’s conduct.</p> - -<p>“And are there no means, then,” cried I “by -which I can communicate in person with any resident -of the palace?”</p> - -<p>“In person,” said the officer “I regret, none. -His Serene Highness’s orders are stringent, and -when I tell you that our Princess is actually behind -these walls, you will understand the necessity. -The sickness has been appalling,” he added.</p> - -<p>He must have seen the blank dismay upon my -countenance, for his own sharp visage expressed -a comical mixture of sympathy and curiosity, and -again approaching two steps he proceeded:</p> - -<p>“I could perhaps convey some message. I shall -soon be relieved from duty here. The person you -wish to see is——?”</p> - -<p>“It is a lady,” said I, flushing.</p> - -<p>This was what the little gentleman had evidently -expected. Suppressing a grin of satisfaction,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -he gave another salute and placed himself -quite at my disposal. But I had an unsurmountable -objection to announce my real relationship -to the woman who had fled from my protection. -Courteous as my interlocutor was, and honourable -and kind as he seemed to be, I could send no message -to my wife through him.</p> - -<p>“If you will see to the safe delivery of a letter,” -said I, “I should be grateful indeed.”</p> - -<p>His face fell.</p> - -<p>“It is possible, perhaps,” he said dubiously, -“but less easy of accomplishment. There will be -the necessity of disinfection. If you think your -billet-doux—forgive me for supposing you to be -a sufferer from the tender passion, and believe me -I speak with sympathy” (here he thumped his -little chest and heaved from its restricted depths -a noisy sigh)—“if you think your billet-doux will -not lose of its sweetness by a prolonged immersion -in vinegar, I will do what I can. Nay, I think I -can promise you that your letter will be delivered, -if you will kindly inform me who the fair recipient -is to be.”</p> - -<p>Again I hesitated. I would not call her by her -maiden name; to speak of her as my wife, to bawl -my strange story on the high road, was not only -intolerable to my pride, but seemed inadvisable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -and certainly imprudent in my ignorance of her -attitude at the Court.</p> - -<p>“It is,” said I, “one of your Princess’s Court -ladies.” And here his volubility spared me further -circumlocution.</p> - -<p>“It can certainly not be,” he cried, “that you -have formed an unhappy attachment for the Frau -Gräfin von Kornstein? There remains then only -the young Comtesse d’Assier, Fräulein von Auerbach -and her sister, and Fräulein Ottilie Pahlen—these -are all of our fair circle that are now in -attendance at the palace.”</p> - -<p>“It is the last lady,” I said, and was at once -glad of my own circumspection and troubled in -my mind that she should be keeping her secret -so well.</p> - -<p>“Mes compliments,” said he with a smirk, but I -thought also with a shade of patronage, as if by -mentioning her last he had also shown her to be -the last in his worldly esteem. Once, doubtless, -this would have galled me.</p> - -<p>“Then if I write now,” I cried, “and you, according -to your kind offer, take charge of my -letter, how soon can it be in her hands?”</p> - -<p>“But as soon as the guard has relieved me, -good sir, am I free to act the gallant Mercury—pity -it is that these sordid details of sickness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -and quarantine should come to spoil so pretty an -errand. This was a fair Court for Cupid before -the ugly plague came on us. Yes,” he added, -“I have seen days!”</p> - -<p>I had already drawn out my tablets, and, thanking -him hurriedly (without, I fear, evincing much -interest in his sentimental reflections), turned and, -making a standing desk of my horse, with the -sheet spread upon the saddle, began, all in the -dreary drizzle, to trace with fingers stiffened from -the cold the few lines which were to bring my -wife back to me.</p> - -<p>I had little time for composition, and so wrote -the words as they welled up from my heart.</p> - -<p>“Dear love,” said I, in the French which had -been the language of our happiest moments, “your -poor scholar has learnt his lesson so well that he -cannot live without his teacher. Forget what has -come between us. Remember only all that unites -us, and forgive. I have, it seems, involved myself -in difficulty by passing through Budissin, and so -will, I fear, have to endure delay before being -permitted sight of your sweet face again. But let -me have a word which may help me to bear the -separation, let me know that I may carry home -my wife.” I signed it, “Your poor scholar and -loving husband.” Then I folded it, fastened it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -with a wafer, and after a minute’s pause decided -to burn my ships and address it by the right name -of her to whom I destined it—“Madame Ottilie -de Jennico, Dame d’honneur de S. A. S. la Princesse -Marie Ottilie de Lusace.”</p> - -<p>Bending over the living desk,—the poor patient -brute never budged but for his heaving flanks,—I -laid for a second, unperceived I thought, my lips -upon that name which haunted me, sleeping and -waking, and turning, with the letter in my hand, -found the Freiherr watching me, with his head -upon one side and so comic an air of sympathy -that, at another moment, I should have burst out -laughing.</p> - -<p>“It is mille dommages,” quoth he as, bending -his supple spine again, he drew his sword with a -charming gesture of courtesy, “that this chaste -salute should have to pass through the bitter -waves of the Court doctor’s vinegar basin before -reaching the virginal lips for which it is intended.”</p> - -<p>“Then I may rely upon your countenance?” -said I, unmindful of his mock Versailles floweriness -as I fixed my missive to the point of the -sword extended towards me for that purpose by -the longest arm the little fellow could make. I -knew he would not read the tell-tale inscription -until the unpoetic process he had so feelingly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -lamented should have been gone through, and I -wondered something anxiously whether it would -not prove another complication, my wife in her -wounded pride having thus chosen to conceal our -marriage—in truth, I might have known it: had -she not shaken off my ring? Seeing upon what -grounds we had parted, however, I dared not have -addressed her otherwise, and so could see no way -but to run some risk.</p> - -<p>“When may I hope to receive an answer?—you -will forgive my impatience,” said I, with a -somewhat rueful smile, “for you have some knowledge -of the human heart, I see, and so I venture -further to trespass on your great courtesy. I will -meet here any messenger you may depute at any -hour you name this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“Myself, sir, myself,” said the good-natured -gentleman, “and in as short a space as possible. -Shall we say three o’clock?”</p> - -<p>There were then a few minutes wanting to noon -by my uncle’s famous chronometer. Three hours -seemed long, but, as we must ever learn to do in -life, I had to be content with a slice where I -wanted the loaf. (Now I have not even a crumb -for my starving heart, and yet I live.)</p> - -<p>As I had surmised, my messenger continued to -hold the missive at the extreme length of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -weapon and arm, while we made our divers congees -and compliments. Thus we parted, he to -withdraw to his guard-house, and I, with my attendant, -to ride back to the nearest village, with what -appetite we might for our noonday meal.</p> - -<p>I rode alone again to the rendezvous, full early, -poor fool! János I had sent on to find lodgings -for me in the neighbourhood, out of range of -infection, so that my time of purgatory need not -be an hour prolonged.</p> - -<p>The sky had cleared somewhat and it rained -no more, but there was now a penetrating and -moisture-charged wind. A little after the stroke -of three my friend of the morning came forth, -waved aside the sentry as before, and halted within -the former distance, while I dismounted. His -countenance was far from bearing the beaming -cordiality with which he had last surveyed me, nor -had his bow anything like its previous depth and -roundness. He drew a folded paper from his -pocket, attached it to the point of his sword, -according to the process I had already witnessed, -and presented it to me, observing drily:</p> - -<p>“I regret, sir, that there seems to be some mistake -about this matter. The Court doctor, who -duly delivered the letter at the palace, informs me -that none of her Highness’s ladies-in-waiting will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -consent to receive it, it being indeed addressed to -some person unknown among them. There is no -lady of the name of Jennico among her Highness’s -attendants.”</p> - -<p>I felt myself blanching.</p> - -<p>“Am I to understand,” said I, “that Fräulein -Ottilie Pahlen has repudiated this letter?”</p> - -<p>“My good sir,” said he, looking at me, I -thought, with a sort of compassion, as if he feared -I was weak in my head, “I understand from the -Court doctor that Mademoiselle Pahlen was the -lady to whom the letter was at once offered, -according to my request and yours. There is perhaps -some mystery?”—here his interest seemed -to flicker up again, and he smiled as who would -say, “<i>confide in me</i>”; but I could not bring my -tongue to this humiliation, less than ever then.</p> - -<p>I flicked the poor, vinegar-sodden, despised epistle -from the point of his sword, and, spreading it -out once again, added to it in a sort of frenzy this -appeal:</p> - -<p>“For God’s sake forgive me! You cannot -mean to send me away like this. Ottilie, write -me one line, for from my soul I love you.”</p> - -<p>Then I pasted the sheet again, and, drawing a -line through the title, wrote above it in great -letters:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Fräulein Ottilie Pahlen,” and then I said to -the officer:</p> - -<p>“You will be doing a deed of truer kindness -than you can imagine, Captain von Krappitz, if -you will have this letter placed again in the hands -of Fräulein Pahlen. More I cannot say now, but -some day, if my fortune is not more evil than I -dare reflect upon, I will explain.”</p> - -<p>“Wait here half an hour,” he responded with -a return of his good nature; “I am off duty and -free for the rest of the day. If I can induce the -Court doctor to attend to me—in truth, he is of a -very surly mood this afternoon—I trust you may -see me return a messenger of better tidings.”</p> - -<p>Besides a very bubbling heat of curiosity there -was real amiability in this readiness to help me.</p> - -<p>The half hour sped and half an hour beyond it—why -do I linger upon such details? From -sheer cowardly reluctance, I believe, to describe -those moments of my great despair.</p> - -<p>And then a cockscomb of a servant fellow, in -gorgeous livery and ribboned cue, stepped forth -from the gates, sniffing a bunch of stinking herbs, -and stood and surveyed me for a second from head -to foot, grinning all over his insolent visage, till I -wonder how I kept my riding-whip from searing -it across.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, sir?” said I sternly.</p> - -<p>He felt, maybe, the note of master in my voice, -for he cringed a little, and, more civilly than his -countenance suggested, requested to know if I was -the gentleman with whom Captain the Freiherr -von Krappitz had recently been conversing. Upon -my reply he gingerly held up a filthy rag of paper, -in which I recognised, with a failing of the heart -such as I cannot set forth in words, my own letter -once more. And in sight of my discomfiture, -resuming his native impudence, he proceeded in -loud tones:</p> - -<p>“My master bids me inform you that he can no -longer be the means of annoying a young lady -whom he respects so much as Mademoiselle -Pahlen. She has requested that your letter may -be returned to you again, and declares that she -knows no such person as yourself, and is quite at -a loss why she should be made the object of this -strange persecution.”</p> - -<p>The rogue sang out the words as one repeating -a lesson in which he has been well drilled.</p> - -<p>As I stood staring at him, all other feelings -swallowed up in the overwhelming tide of my disappointment, -I saw him, as in a dream, toss the -much-travelled note in the mud between us, turn -on his heel, exchange a grin with the nearest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -sentry, jerk his thumb over his shoulder in my -direction, tap his forehead significantly, and finally -swagger out of sight behind the little wicket.</p> - -<p>And still I stood immovable, unable to formulate -a single thought in my paralysed brain, the whole -world before me a dull blank, yet knowing that, -when I should begin to feel again, it would be hell -indeed.</p> - -<p>A shout from the sentry suddenly aroused me.</p> - -<p>“‘Tis better,” he called, “that you should move -on.”</p> - -<p>And in good sooth what had I more to do before -those gates? I mounted my horse and rode backwards -and forwards upon that wretched scrap of -paper that had been charged with all the dearest -longings of my heart, until it lay indistinguishable -in the mud around it. Then I set spurs to my -jade, and we rode, a well-matched couple, away -towards the strange village where I was to meet -János.</p> - -<p class="p2">With the memory of that bitterest hour of his -life burning so hot within him that he could continue -his sedentary task no longer, but must rise -and pace the room after the sullen way now well -known to János as betokening his master’s worst -moments, Basil Jennico laughed aloud. Pride<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -must have a fall! God knows his pride had had -falls enough to kill the most robust of vices.</p> - -<p>Had ever man been so humiliated, so contemned -as he? Had ever poor soul been made to -suffer more relentlessly where it had sinned?</p> - -<p>“I have been brought low, very low,” said he to -himself, and thought of the early days at Tollendhal -when its young lord had deemed the whole earth -created for his use. Yet, even as he spoke, he -knew in his heart that the pride that was born in -him would die with him only, and that if it had -been mastered awhile it was only but because love -had been stronger still.</p> - -<p>When he had taken the roturière unreservedly to -his heart; when he had returned from the mountains -to seek reconciliation; when he had followed -her upon her flight, had twice besought her to return -to him; when he had made his third and last -futile appeal in the face of a slashing rebuff, pride -had lain beneath the heel of love. He had been -beaten, after all, by a pride greater than his own; -and he knew that were she to call him even now, -he would come to her bidding in spite of all and -through all.</p> - -<p>The boards of the narrow, irregular room creaked -beneath his impatient tread. Outside, the sounds -of traffic were dying away. The last belated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -coaches had clattered down the streets, the tall -running footman had extinguished his link. Basil -Jennico turned instinctively towards the south, -like the restless compass-needle, a way that had -grown into a habit of late as his spirit strove to -bridge across the leagues of sea and land that lay -between him and his wife.</p> - -<p>Was she thinking of him now? What was his -curse was at the same time his triumph: he defied -her to forget him any more than he could forget -her! Those hours, had she not shared them -with him? Come what would, no man could lay -claim to be to her what he had been. <i>No man—that -way madness lay!</i>...</p> - -<p>He looked round at the pages scored with his -writings and gave a heart-sick sigh, and then at -the door of the room beyond, wherein stood that -huge four-post bed where he had tossed through -such sleepless hours and dreamed such dreams -that the waking moment held the bitterness of -death. Next he thought of the town beyond, so -full, yet to him so empty.</p> - -<p>How to pass the time that went by with such -leaden feet? The days were bad enough, but the -nights—the nights were terrible! Should he -don his most brilliant suit and hie him out into -the throng of men of fashion? Some of the Woschutzski<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -gold would not come amiss at the dicing-table -of my Lady Brambury, or at the Cocoa-tree, -or yet the Hummums, where (his head being as -strong as the best of them) he could crack a few -bottles in good company. Good company, forsooth! -What could all the world be to him for want of that -one small being? He might drink himself into -oblivion, perhaps, a few hours’ oblivion, and be carried -home in the early morning and wake at midday -with a new headache and the old heartache. Pah!</p> - -<p>Of three evils choose the least: since the great -feather bed would hold no sleep yet awhile; since -to drag his misery into company was to add fire to -its fever, Mr. Jennico sat down again to his task, -hoping so to weary his brain that it would grant -him a few hours’ dreamless rest.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER II</h2> - -<p class="pch"><span class="smcap">Captain Basil Jennico’s Memoir continued</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is very little more to tell. The new inn -wherein I found János established was but a poor -place in a poor village, a sort of summer resort -abandoned in winter-time save by its own wretched -inhabitants. The private chamber allotted to me—it -was the only one—was bitter cold, but my -choice lay between that and the common room -below, full of evil smells and reeking boors and -stifling stove heat.</p> - -<p>But I was in no mood to reck of bodily inconvenience. -My further action had to be determined -upon; and, torn two ways between anger and longing, -I passed the evening and the greater part of -the night in futile battle with myself.</p> - -<p>At length I resolved upon a plan which brought -some calm into my soul, and with it a creeping -ray of hope.</p> - -<p>I would lay my case before the Princess herself. -She had been ever kindly in her dealings towards -me. I had no reason to imagine but that she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -well disposed in my favour; she had had no part -in her maid of honour’s double dealings with me: -I would pray her to speak to the wayward being -on my behalf, to place before her her duty towards -the husband she had herself chosen.</p> - -<p>Thus next morning, as clearly, temperately, and -respectfully as might be, I indited my letter, sealed -it upon each fold with the Jennico coat-of-arms, -and, after deliberation, despatched János with it. -The fellow had, according to my orders, purchased -fresh horses, and cut a better figure than the yesterday’s, -when he set off upon his errand. Duly -and minutely instructed, he was to present himself -at another gate of the palace, and I trusted -that, making good use of the purse with which he -was supplied, his mission might be more successfully -accomplished than had been mine.</p> - -<p>And indeed, so far as he was concerned, this -was the case. He came back sooner than I had -supposed it possible, to inform me that, having -been able to say he was not from Budissin, he had -been received with civility, and permitted to wait -at the guard-house of the north entrance while my -letter was carried to the palace. After a short -time, the messenger who had taken charge of it -had returned, demanded and carefully noted my -name, qualities, and exact whereabouts, and bidden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -him go back to his master with the assurance that -the Princess would send her answer.</p> - -<p>I waited, tramping the short breadth of my miserable -room like a caged wolf, anxiously peering -every other minute through the rain-stained window -which overlooked the high road.</p> - -<p>Reason seemed to offer but one conclusion concerning -the result of the last appeal: she would -come back to me. My offence—bad as it had -been, unmanly towards the woman who had lain -in my arms, unworthy of a gentleman towards the -lady whom he had resolved to acknowledge as his -wife—my offence was not one that so true a penitence -might not amply atone for. That was what -reason said. But, as often as confidence began to -rise in my heart, an instinctive dread overcame it, an -unaccountable, ominous misgiving that the happiness -I had once held in my hand and so perversely -cast from me was never to be mine again. And, as -the hours slowly fell away, the dread became more -poignant, and the effort to hope more futile.</p> - -<p>János had returned with his message about noon. -It must have been at least five o’clock (for the -world outside was wrapped in murky shadow) when -there came a sound on the road that made my -heart leap: a clatter of horses’ hoofs and the rumbling -of a coach. I threw open my window and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -thrust out my head. How vividly the impression -comes back on me now!—the cold rain upon my -throbbing temples, the blinding light of joy that -filled my brain as I strained my eyes to distinguish -in the dusk the nature of the vehicle which announced -its approach with such important noise. -It was a carriage, guarded by an escort of dragoons, -who rode by the door, musket on thigh. An escort! -It must be the Princess herself: the Princess come -in person, the noble and gentle lady, to bring me -back my wife, my love!</p> - -<p>Fool! Fool! Fool thrice told! for my vainglorious -self-conceit, my loving, yearning heart!</p> - -<p>My spirits bounded at one leap to their old important, -arrogant level. I threw a hasty glance in -the mirror to note that the pallor of my countenance -and the disorder of my unpowdered hair -were after all not unbecoming. As I dashed along -the narrow wooden passage and down the breakneck -creaking stairs I will not say that in all the -glow of my heart, that had been so cold, there was -not now, in this sudden relief from the iron pressure -of anxiety, a point of anger against the little -truant—a vague determination to establish a certain -balance of account, to inflict some mild penance -upon her as a set-off against the very bitter -one she had imposed on me. A minute ago I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -would have knelt before her and humbled myself -to the very dust: when I reached the door of the -drinking-room I was already pluming myself upon -a resolution to be merciful.</p> - -<p>I broke into the room out of the darkness with -my head high, and was at first so dazzled by the -light within, as well as by the reeling triumph in -my brain, that for an instant I could distinguish -nothing.</p> - -<p>Then, with a sickening revulsion, with such -rage as may have torn the soul of Lucifer struck -from the heights of heaven to the depths of hell, -I saw the single figure of Captain von Krappitz -standing in the middle of the floor with much -gravity and importance of demeanour. Flattened -against the walls, the boors stood open-mouthed, -all struck with amazement; and the little host -was bowing anxiously to the belaced officer. Two -dragoons guarded the door.</p> - -<p>Before even a word was uttered I felt that all -was over for me.</p> - -<p>Concentrating my energies, then, to face misfortune -with as brave a front as I might, I halted -before my friend of yesterday, and waited in -silence for him to open proceedings.</p> - -<p>He bowed to me with great courtesy, looking -upon me the while with eyes at once compassionate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -curious, and yet respectful, as though upon -one of newly-discovered importance, and said:</p> - -<p>“I grieve, sir, to be the bearer of an order which -may cause you displeasure, but I beg you, being a -soldier yourself, to consider me only as the instrument -which does not presume to judge but obeys. -Be pleased to read this—it is addressed to you.”</p> - -<p>I took the great sealed envelope with fingers as -cold and heavy as marble, broke it open mechanically, -and read. At first it was without any comprehension -of the words, which were nevertheless -set forth in a very free, flowing hand, but presently, -as the blood rushed in a tide of sudden -anger to my brain, with a quickening and redoubled -intensity of intelligence.</p> - -<div class="pbq"> - -<p class="p1">“The Princess Marie Ottilie of Sachs-Lausitz,” so ran the -precious document, “has received M. de Jennico’s letter concerning -a certain lady.</p> - -<p>“M. de Jennico has already been given clearly to understand -that his importunities are distressing.</p> - -<p>“As the lady in question is a member of the Princess’s -household, M. de Jennico will not be surprised at the steps -which are now taken to secure her against further persecution. -He is advised to accept the escort of the officer -who carries this letter, and warned that any attempt at resistance, -or any future infringement of the order issued by -command of his Serene Highness, will be visited in the severest -manner.”</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> - -<p class="p1">In a bloody heat of rage I looked up, ready for -any folly—to strangle the poor courteous little -instrument of a woman’s implacable resentment—to -find death on the bayonets of the hulking sentinels -at the door, and be glad of it, so that I had -shed somebody’s blood for these insults! But, -meeting Captain von Krappitz’s steady glance, I -paused. And in that pause my sense returned.</p> - -<p>If love itself be a madness, as they say, what -name shall we give to our wrath against those -that we love! For that minute no poor chained -Bedlamite could have been more dangerously mad -than I. But my British dread of ridicule saved my -life that day, and perhaps that of others besides.</p> - -<p>Perhaps also the real pity, the sympathy, that -was stamped on the captain’s honest face had -something to say to calming me. At any rate, I -recovered from my convulsion, and awoke to the -fact that blood was running down my shirt from -where I had clenched my teeth upon my lip.</p> - -<p>I must have been a fearsome object to behold, -and I have a good opinion of Captain von Krappitz’s -coolness that he should thus have stood and faced -a man of twice his size and, in such a frenzy, of -probably four times his strength, with never a signal -to his guard or even a step in retreat.</p> - -<p>Said this gentleman then, delicately averting his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -eyes from my countenance, so soon as he saw I -had come to my senses:</p> - -<p>“If you will glance at this paper you will see -that my orders are stringent, and I shall be greatly -indebted to your courtesy if you will co-operate in -their being carried out in the least unpleasant -manner possible. Indeed, sir,” he added in my -ear hastily and kindly, “resistance would be worse -than useless.”</p> - -<p>I glanced at the paper he presented to me, -caught the words: “Order to Captain Freiherr -von Krappitz to convey M. de Jennico beyond the -frontier of Lusatia, at any point he may himself -choose”; caught a further glimpse of such expressions: -“formal warning to M. de Jennico never -to set foot more within the dominions of the Duke -of Lausitz,” “severe penalty,” and so forth. I -glanced, and tossed the paper contemptuously on -the table.</p> - -<p>That wife of mine had greater interest at the -Court than she had been wont to pretend, and she -was using it to some purpose. She was mightily -determined that her offending husband should pay -his debt to her pride, to the last stripe of his punishment.</p> - -<p>I smiled in the bitterness of my soul. I was -sane enough now, God knows!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> - -<p>Well, she should have her wish, she should be -persecuted no longer.</p> - -<p>“I place myself entirely at your convenience,” -said M. de Krappitz discreetly, adding, however, -the significant remark, “my order gives me twelve -hours.”</p> - -<p>He picked up the document as he spoke, folded -it carefully, and placed it in his breast pocket.</p> - -<p>“Oh, as for me,” said I, “I ask for no respite.” -(Could I desire to waste a second before shaking -the dust of this cursed country from my feet?) -“The time but to warn my servant and bid him -truss up my portmanteau and saddle the horses. -I understand,” I added, with what, I fear, was a -withering smile, “that you are kind enough to -offer me a seat in your carriage?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, my dear sir,” returned the little man, with -an expression of relief, “what a delightful thing it -is to deal with an homme d’esprit!”</p> - -<p>And so, in scarce half-an-hour’s time, the triumphal -procession was ready to set forth. I -entered the coach, the Freiherr took his seat behind -me, János, impassive, mounted his horse -between two dragoons, whilst my own mount was -led by a third soldier in the rear. And in this -order we set off at a round pace for the Silesian -frontier, where I begged to be deposited.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> - -<p>At first my good-tempered and garrulous escort -tried in vain to beguile me into some conversation -upon such abstract subjects as music and poetry. -But his well-meant efforts failed before my hopeless -taciturnity, and it was in silence that we -concluded the transit between Rothenburg and the -border.</p> - -<p>As we parted, however, he held out his hand. -“Sans rancune, camarade,” said he.</p> - -<p>What could I do but clasp the good-natured little -paw as heartily as I might, and echo, although -most untruly, “Sans rancune”? To the very -throat I was full of rancour for everything belonging -to Lusatia, and I swear the bitterness of it lay -a palpable taste on my tongue.</p> - -<p>A free man again, I threw myself upon my -horse, and took the straightest road for my empty -home. János had the wit to speak no word to me, -save a direction now and again as to the proper -way. And we rode like furies through the cold, -wet night.</p> - -<p>“Breed a fine stock ...” had said my good -uncle to his heir.</p> - -<p>At least, I thought—and the sound of my -laugh rang ghastly even in my own ears—if I -have brought roture into the family, I am not like -now to graft it on the family tree!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER III</h2> - -<p class="pch1"><span class="smcap">Captain Basil Jennico’s Memoir, resumed three -months later, at Farringdon Dane</span></p> - -<p class="pr4 p2"><span class="smcap">Suffolk</span>, <i>14th April, 1772</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">I had</span> thought upon that day when, in my ill -temper, I irreparably insulted my wife, that I -could never bring myself to face the exposure -which a return to England would necessarily bring -about. But when I found the desolation and the -haunting memories of Tollendhal like to rob me of -all I had left of reason and manliness; when, to -my restless spirit, the thought of home seemed to -promise some chance of diversion and relief, I did -not hesitate. Without delay I set to work to put -matters at Tollendhal upon a sufficiently regular -scale, also to have realised and transferred to my -London bankers a sum of money large enough to -meet any reasonable demand. This business accomplished, -in less than a month from the date of -the ill-fated Rothenburg expedition I found myself -breathing my native air again.</p> - -<p>Before my departure I charged Schultz—and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -know I can rely upon his faithfulness—to be perpetually -on the look-out for any communication -from Lausitz, and to be ready to give any one immediate -cognisance of my whereabouts. It is a -forlorn hope.</p> - -<p>Although the humour had come upon me to go -back to my own land—after the fashion, I fancy, -that a sick man deems he will be better anywhere -than where he is—and although I did not hesitate -to gratify that humour, I was, nevertheless, not -blind to the peculiar position I must occupy among -my people. I had no desire to lay claim to the -honours I had so prematurely announced, no desire -to present myself under false colours, even were -such an imposture likely to succeed; but neither -did I see why I should lay bare to the jeers of the -fashionable world, to the sneers of dear relatives -and friends, or, more intolerable still, to their -compassion, the whole pitiful plot of that comedy -which has turned to such tragedy for me. So, -when I wrote to my mother to announce my -arrival, I adopted a purposely evasive tone.</p> - -<p class="pbq p1">“It is deeply unfortunate,” I wrote, “that you should have -broken the bond of secrecy which I enjoined upon you when -I informed you of my intended marriage. You know too -much of the world, my dear mother, not to understand that -when a commoner like myself, however well born and dowered,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -would contract an alliance with the heiress of a reigning house, -it is more than likely that there may be a ’slip ’twixt the cup -and the lip.’ My cup has been spilt. I come home, a broken-hearted -man, to find myself, I fear, owing to your breach of -confidence, the laughing-stock of our society. But the yearning -for home is too strong upon me to be resisted; I am -returning to England at once. If you would not add yet more -to the bitterness of my lot you will strenuously deny the report -you indiscreetly spread, and warn curiosity-mongers from -daring to probe a wound which I could not bear even your -hand to touch.”</p> - -<p class="p1">These words, by which I intended to spare myself -at least the humiliation of personal explanation, -have produced an unexpected effect. My -poor mother performed her task so well that I find -myself quite as much the hero of the hour over -here as if I had brought back my exalted bride.</p> - -<p>The mystery in which I am shrouded, the obvious -melancholy of my demeanour, the very indifference -with which I receive all notice, added, of -course, to my wealth, and possibly to the belief -that I am still a prize in the matrimonial market, -my extraordinary luck at cards, when I can be -induced to play, my carelessness to loss or gain—all -this has placed me upon a pinnacle which is as -gratifying to my mother as (or, so I hear, for I -have declined all reconciliation with the renegade) -it is galling to my brother and his family.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> - -<p>But the best yet, so far as I am concerned, is -that no one has dared to put to me an indiscreet -question, and that even my mother, although -her wistful eyes implore my confidence, respects -my silence.</p> - -<p>Now, having tried in vain to find a solace in the -pleasures of town, I have betaken myself to that -part of the island which is the cradle of our race, -to try whether a taste of good old English sport -may not revive some interest in my life.</p> - -<p>Often in that last month at Tollendhal, when -the whole land was locked in ice and the grey sky -looked down pitilessly upon the white earth, day -by day, with never a change and scarcely a shadow, -I thought of the green winters of my youth in the -old country; of rousing gallops, with the west -wind in my face, across wide fields all verdant still -and homely; of honest English faces, English -voices, the tongue of the hounds, the blast of the -cracked horn, with almost a passion of desire. It -seemed to me that, if I could be back in the midst -of it all again, I might feel as the boy Basil had -felt, and be rid, were it but for the space of a good -cross-country run, of that present Basil Jennico -whose brain was so weary of working upon the -same useless round, whose heart was so sore within -him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> - -<p>So soon therefore as the weather broke—for -the winter has been hard even in this milder climate—I -accepted my mother’s offer of her dower-house, -set up a goodly stable of hunters, and -established myself at the Manor of Farringdon -Dane. I have actually derived some satisfaction -from a couple of days’ sport, to which a sight of -my lord brother’s discomfiture, each time I cut -him deliberately in the face of the whole field, has -added perhaps a grain.</p> - - -<p class="pr4 p2"><i>April 29th.</i></p> - -<p>I am this day like the man in the Gospel who, -having driven out the devil from his heart and -swept and garnished it, finds himself presently -possessed of seven devils worse than the first! -The demon of wrath I had exorcised, I believed, -long ago; the fiend of unrest and longing I had -thought these days to have laid too. In spite of -her too obdurate resentment, I had no feeling for -my wife, wherever she might be, but tenderness. -Now, oh, Ottilie, Ottilie! do I most hate thee or -love thee? I know not, by my soul! Yet this at -least I do know: mine thou art, and mine thou -shalt remain, though we never meet again on -earth: mine, as I am thine, though the true, good -race of Jennico wither and die on my barren stock.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<p>But what serves it to rant in this fashion to myself -when I have not even the satisfaction of hearing -a contradiction—not even an excuse to shake -my fury? Small satisfaction likewise has that -puling, mincing messenger to carry back to you, -my wife. Poor old man! I am fain to laugh even -in my anger when I recall his panic-stricken countenance -of an hour ago.</p> - -<p>The hounds were to meet at ten this morning -at Sir Percy Spalding’s, not three miles from here, -and so I was taking the day easy. I had but just -finished breakfast, and was standing on the steps -of the porch quaffing a draught of ale, as I awaited -my horse, sniffing the while the moist southern -wind; and my thoughts for once were pleasantly -occupied—for once the gnawing canker was at rest -within me. Presently my attention was awakened -by the rumbling sound of wheels; and, looking -towards the avenue, yet so sparsely be-leaved as -to afford a clear view down its whole length, I saw -coming along it, at slow pace, a heavy vehicle, -which in time disclosed itself as a shabby, hired -travelling chaise, drawn by an ancient horse, and -driven by that drunken scoundrel Bateman from -Yarmouth, once a familiar figure to my childish -eyes. My heart leaped. I expected no one—my -mother was at Cheltenham for the waters—no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -one, save, indeed, her whom I ever unconsciously -await!</p> - -<p>It was perhaps the unreasonable disappointment -that fell upon me, when, gazing eagerly for a -glimpse of the occupant, as the carriage lumbered -through the inner gate, I saw that it contained -but the single figure of an old man (huddled, -despite the spring warmth of the day, in furs to -the very chin) that turned me into so bitter and -black a temper.</p> - -<p>Even as the chaise drove up before the steps, -and as I stood staring down at it, motionless, -although within me there was turmoil enough, the -fellows came round with my horses. Bess, the -Irish mare, took umbrage at the little grotesque -figure that, with an alertness one would scarcely -have given it credit for, skipped from the chaise, -looking more like one of those images I have seen -on Saxon clocks than anything human. How she -plunged and how the fool that held her stared, and -how I cursed him for not minding his business—it -was a vast relief to my feelings—and how the -old gentleman regarded us as one newly come -among savages, and how he finally advanced upon -me mincing—I laugh again to think back upon it! -But I had no mind to laughter then. ’Twas plain, -before he opened his mouth to speak, that my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -visitor hailed from foreign parts. And at closer -acquaintance the reason why, even from a distance, -he had appeared to me as something less -than human, became evident. His countenance -was shrivelled and seared by recent smallpox; -scarred in a manner perfectly fantastic to behold.</p> - -<p>That curse of my life, that persistent hope—I -believe I could get along well enough, but ’tis the -hope that kills me—began to stir within me.</p> - -<p>“Have I the honour of speaking to Captain -Basil de Jennico?” said the puppet in French; -and before the question was well out of his mouth, -I had capped it with another, breathless:</p> - -<p>“Come you not from Rothenburg?”</p> - -<p>He bowed and scraped: each saw he had his -answer. I was all civility now, Heaven help me! -and cordial enough to make up for a more discourteous -reception.</p> - -<p>I ordered my horses back to the stables, dismissed -the chaise, in spite of the newcomer’s protestations, -and led him within the house, calling -for refreshments for him; all the while a thousand -questions, to which I yet dreaded the answers, -burning on my tongue.</p> - -<p>I had installed him in the deepest armchair in -the apartment I habitually used; I had kindled -a fire with my own hands, for he was shivering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -in his furs, whether from fear, embarrassment, -or cold, I know not—maybe all three together; I -had placed a glass of wine at his elbow, which he -sipped nervously when I pressed him; and then, -when I knew that I should hear what had brought -him, from very cowardliness I was mute. It -seemed to me as if my courtesies embarrassed him, -and that this augured ill, although (I reasoned -with myself) if she should send me a messenger at -all, I ought to anticipate good tidings.</p> - -<p>“I am fortunate, sir,” began the old man in -quavering tones, “to find you at home. Sir, I -have come a long way to seek you. I went first -to your castle at Tollendhal, where your steward, -a countryman of my own, to whose politeness I -am much indebted, gave me very careful instructions -as to the road to your English domicile. A -most worthy and amiable person! I should not -so soon have had the advantage of making your -acquaintance had it not been for the help he gave -me. I have come by Yarmouth, sir: the wind -was all in our favour. I am informed we had a -good passage.” Here he shivered, and a yet -greener shade underspread the scars upon his -brow. “But I am not accustomed to the sea, and -I have been ill, sir, lately, very ill.”</p> - -<p>He coughed awkwardly, reached out his trembling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -hand for the wine, but put down the glass -again untasted.</p> - -<p>“Surely I am right in believing,” said I, “that -you come from some one very dear to me—from -one from whom I am parted by a series of unfortunate -misunderstandings?” I felt my lips -grow cold as I spoke, and I know that I panted.</p> - -<p>“If you have a letter,” said I, “give it to me.”</p> - -<p>I reached out my hand, and saw, with a strange -sort of self-pity, that it shook no less than had the -old man’s withered claw.</p> - -<p>“Or if you have a message,” cried I, breaking -out at last, “speak, for God’s sake!”</p> - -<p>He drew back from my impetuosity. There -was fear of me in his eye; at the same time, I -thought, with a chill about my heart, compassion.</p> - -<p>“My good sir,” he said, between “hums” and -“ha’s” which well-nigh drove me distracted, “I -believe I may say—in fact, I will venture to assert -that I have come from the—ahem, ahem!—young -lady I apprehend you speak of. I have been made -aware of the—ah, hum!—unfortunate circumstances. -The young lady——.” Here he hitched -himself up in his chair and began to fumble in -the skirts of his floating coat. Between his furs -and his feebleness this was a sufficiently lengthy -operation to give time for my hopes to kindle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -stronger again and my small stock of patience -to fail.</p> - -<p>“You are doubtless prepared to hear,” he went -on at length, “that the young lady, being now -fully alive to the consequence of her—her—ill-considered -conduct—a girlish freak, sir, a child’s, -I may say!—believes that she will be meeting -your wishes, nay, your express desire, by joining -with you in an application to his Holiness for the -immediate annulment of so irregular a marriage.”</p> - -<p>“What?” cried I with a roar, leaping from my -chair. So occupied had I been in watching the -movements of his hands as he fingered a great -pocket-book, expecting him every instant to produce -a letter from her to me, that I had scarce -heeded the drift of his babble till the last words -struck upon my ear.</p> - -<p>“Annul our marriage!” I thundered, “at my -desire! In the devil’s name, who are you, and -whence come you, for it could not be my wife who -has sent you with such a message to me?”</p> - -<p>The little man had jumped, too, at my violence—like -a grasshopper. But my question evidently -touched his pride in a sensitive quarter, and roused -him to a sense of offence in which he forgot his -tremors.</p> - -<p>“Truly, sir, truly, you remind me,” he said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -tartly. “If you will have but a little patience, I -was in the very act of seeking my credentials when -you so—ahem!—impetuously interrupted me.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke, with a skip and a bow, which -recalled I know not what vague memory of a -bygone merry hour, he drew forth a folded sheet, -and, unfolding it, presented it to me. I knew the -handwriting too well to doubt its authenticity. -How often had I conned and kissed the few -poor lines she had ever written to me; ay, although -they had been penned in her assumed -character!</p> - -<p class="p1 reduct">“<span class="smcap">To M. de Jennico</span>—</p> - -<p class="pbq">“I empower M. de Schreckendorf to act for me in the -affair M. de Jennico wots of, and I agree beforehand to all -his arrangements.”</p> - -<p class="pc reduct">(Thereto the signature.)</p> - -<p class="p1">Not a word more; not a word of regret, even -of anger! The same implacable, unbending resentment.</p> - -<p>I stood staring at the lines, reading them and -re-reading them, and each letter seemed to print -itself like fire upon my soul. I heard, as in a -dream, my visitor pour forth further explanations, -still in that tone of injury my roughness had -evoked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I am myself, sir, a friend. Yes, I may say a -friend, an old friend, of the young lady. Her -parents—ahem!—have always reposed confidence -in me. I, sir, am M. de Schreckendorf. The -very fact, I should think, of my being in possession -of this letter, of this document”—here there -was a great rattling of stiff parchment—“will -assure you, I should hope, of my identity. Nevertheless, -if you wish further proof, I have a letter -to our ambassador in London, and I am willing to -accompany you to his house, or meet you there at -your convenience. Indeed, it would perhaps be -more proper and correct, in every way, that the -whole matter should be settled and the documents -duly attested at the residence of the accredited -representative of Lusatia. I will not disguise to -you that his Serene Highness, the Duke himself, -takes—takes an interest in the lady, and is desirous -of having this business, which so nearly affects -the welfare and credit of a well-known member of -his Court, settled in the promptest and most efficacious -manner. A sad escapade, you must admit -yourself!”</p> - -<p>And all the while my heart was crying out -within me in an agony, “Oh, Ottilie, how could -you, how could you? Was the memory of those -days nothing to you? Is the knowledge of my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -love and sorrow nothing to you? Are you a -woman, and have you no forgiveness?”</p> - -<p>Taking perhaps my silence for acquiescence (for -this messenger of my wife, albeit entrusted with -so delicate a mission, was no shrewd diplomatist), -M. de Schreckendorf here spread out with an -agreeable flourish an amazing-looking Latin document -with rubrics ready filled up, it seemed, but -for certain spaces left blank, for the names, I suppose, -of the appealing parties.</p> - -<p>“I have been led to understand,” pursued he -then in tones of greatly increased confidence, -“that you entirely concur in the lady’s desire -for the annulment of this contestable union, the -actual legality of which, indeed, is too doubtful to -be worth discussing. From the religious point of -view, however, one of chief importance to my -young friend (I think I may call her so), the -matter is otherwise serious, for there was, no -doubt, a sacrament administered by a priest, duly -ordained, but unfortunately, through old age and -natural infirmity, wanting in due prudence, and -further misled as to the identity of one of the -contracting persons. A sacrament, sir, there undoubtedly -was; but I am glad to inform you that -special leading divines have been already approached -upon the subject, and they give good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -hope, sir, good hope, that a properly drawn up -petition, supported by the signatures of the two -persons concerned, will meet at Rome with most -favourable consideration. The ecclesiastical part -of the difficulty once settled, the legal one goes -of itself.”</p> - -<p>I was gradually becoming attentive to the run -of his glib speech. I hardly know now how I contained -myself so far, but I kept a rigid silence, -and for yet another minute or two gave him all -my ear.</p> - -<p>“Such being the case,” he continued, “I need -hardly trouble you to disturb yourself by journeying -all the way to London. We need proceed no -farther than Yarmouth, indeed, and there in the -presence of two competent witnesses—I would -suggest a priest of our religion and some neighbouring -gentleman of substance—all you will have to -do is just to sign this document. I repeat, I understand -that you are naturally anxious likewise to -be delivered from a marriage in which you have -considered yourself aggrieved: and not unnaturally.” -Here the little monster threw a sly look at -me, and added: “You were made the victim of a -little deception, eh? Then in the course of a few -months—Rome is always slow, you know—you -will both be as free as air! With no more loss to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -either of you than the loss of—ahem!—a little -inexperience.”</p> - -<p>As free as air! <i>Ottilie as free as air!</i> Then -it was that the violence of my wrath overflowed. -That moment is a blank to my memory. I only -know that I heard the sound of my own voice ringing -with shattering violence in the room, and I -came to myself again to find that, with a strength -my fury alone could have lent, I was shredding the -tough parchment between my fingers, so that the -ground was strewn with its rags. What most restored -me to something like composure was the abject -terror of the unlucky messenger, who, huddled -away from me in a corner of the room, was peeping -round a chair at me, much as you might see a -monkey caught in mischief. His teeth were chattering! -Good anger was wasted on so miserable -an object, and indeed the feelings that swayed me -had had roots in ground such as he could never -tread upon.</p> - -<p>“Come out, M. de Schreckendorf,” I said, with a -calmness which surprised myself—but there are -times when a man’s courage rises with the very -magnitude of a calamity—“you have nothing to -fear from me. You will want an answer to carry -back to her that sent you. Take her this.”</p> - -<p>I stooped as I spoke, and gathered together the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -shreds of the document, folded them in a great sheet -of paper, and tied it with ribbon into a neat parcel.</p> - -<p>“Not a word,” I went on; “I will hear no more! -When you have rested and partaken of refreshment, -one of my carriages will be at your disposal for -whatever point you may desire to reach to-day. -Stay, you will want some evidence to show that -you have fulfilled your embassy.”</p> - -<p>Sitting down to my writing-table, I hastily addressed -the packet to “Madame Basil de Jennico,” -adding thereafter her distinctive title as maid of -honour. This done, I sealed it with my great seal, -M. de Schreckendorf meanwhile uttering uncouth -little groans.</p> - -<p>“Here, sir,” said I, holding out the packet with -its bold inscription, “they will no longer, it is evident, -deny the existence at the Court of Lusatia -of the person I have here addressed. Here, sir. -Take this to my wife, and tell her that her husband -has more respect than she has for the holy -sacrament he received with her. Here, sir!”</p> - -<p>At every “Here, sir,” I advanced a step upon -him, holding out the bundle, and at every step I -took he retreated, till impatiently I flung it on the -table nearest him, and making him a low ironical -bow of farewell, turned to leave him.</p> - -<p>I paused a moment on the threshold of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -room, however, and had the satisfaction of seeing -him, after throwing his hands heavenwards, as if -in despairing protest, bring them down again on -the packet and proceed to stuff it into the recesses -of his coat.</p> - -<p>I turned once more to go, when to my surprise -he called after me in tones unexpectedly stern and -loud:</p> - -<p>“Young man, young man, this is a grave mistake; -have a care!”</p> - -<p>I shrugged my shoulders and slammed the door -upon his warning cry. Nor, though he subsequently -sent twice by my servants—first to demand, -then to supplicate, a further interview—would -I consent to parley with him again.</p> - -<p>I passed a couple of restless hours, until, at -length, from an upper window I saw him depart -from my house in far greater state and comfort -than he had come.</p> - -<p>Now, as I write, I know that he is being whirled -along the Yarmouth road at the best pace of my -fine horses, speeding back to Lausitz to take my -wife my eloquent answer.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER IV</h2> - -<p class="pch1"><span class="smcap">Narrative of an episode at White’s Club, in which -Captain Jennico was concerned, set forth from -contemporary accounts</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> tenth hour of an October night had rung -out over a fog-swathed London; yet, despite the -time of year, unfashionable for town life, despite the -unpropitious weather, the long card-room at White’s -was rapidly filling. The tables, each lit by its -own set of candles, shone dimly like a little green -archipelago in a sea of mist. Groups were gathering -round sundry of these boards; the dice had -begun to rattle, voices to ring out. The nightly -scene was being repeated, wherein all were actors, -down to the waiters, who had their private bets, -and lost and won with their patrons.</p> - -<p>Somewhat apart in the seclusion of a window-recess, -cosily ensconced so as to profit of the -warmth of the great yellow fire, sat three gentlemen. -A fourth chair remained vacant at their -table; and from the impatient glances which two -of the party now and again turned upon the different -doors, it was evident that the arrival of its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -expected occupant was overdue. The third gentleman, -who bore the stamp of a distinctly foreign -race,—although his hair, which he wore but -slightly powdered, was of a fair hue, and his face -rather sanguine than dark,—seemed to endure the -delay with complete indifference. His attention -was wholly given to the shuffling of a pack of -cards, which he manipulated with extreme dexterity, -while he listened to his companions’ remarks -with impassive countenance. He was a handsome -man, despite a bulk of frame and feature which -almost amounted to coarseness; hardly yet in the -prime of life, with full blue eyes and full red lips, -which took, when he spoke or smiled, a curious -curve, baring the canine in almost sinister fashion. -The Chevalier de Ville-Rouge, introduced at -White’s by the Prussian Ambassador, as a distinguished -officer of the great Frederick visiting -England for his pleasure, had shown himself so -daring a player as to be welcomed among the -most noted gamblers. He had lost and won large -sums with great breeding, and had in his six -weeks’ stay contrived to improve an imperfect -knowledge of an alien tongue in such fashion as -to make intercourse with his English companions -quite sufficiently easy.</p> - -<p>The youngest of the trio at the table in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -corner, this foggy night, was naturally the one to -display his feelings most openly. A clean-faced, -square-built English lad, fresh it would seem from -the playing fields of school, yet master of his title -and fortune, and cornet in the Life Guards, Sir -John Beddoes was already a familiar figure in the -club, as indeed his finances could bear doleful testimony. -The green cuff-guards adjusted over his -delicate ruffles, the tablets and pencil ready at his -elbow, it was clear he was itching to put another -slice of his patrimony to the hazard. His opposite -neighbour, Beau Carew (as he dearly loved to hear -himself dubbed), was a man of another kidney, -and fifteen years of nights, systematically turned -into days, had left their stamp upon features once -noted for their beauty. Though ready now with a -sneer or jest for his companion’s youthful eagerness, -his eyes wandering restlessly from the clock -to the doors betrayed an almost equal anxiety to -begin the business of the evening.</p> - -<p>“Devil take Jennico!” cried the Baronet at last, -striking the table so that the dice leaped in their -box; “‘pon my soul it’s too bad! He gave me an -appointment here at ten to-night, and it wants -now but six minutes to eleven.”</p> - -<p>“Bet he comes before the clock strikes,” interposed -Mr. Carew; “ten guineas?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Done with you, Dick,” said Sir John promptly.</p> - -<p>The bet was registered, and five minutes passed -in watching the timepiece on the mantel-shelf: all -the young Baronet’s eagerness being now against -the event he had been burning to hasten. The -strokes rang out. With a smile he held out his -broad palm, into which Carew duly dropped ten -pieces.</p> - -<p>“‘Tis the first bit of luck the fellow has brought -me yet. Gad, I believe my luck has turned! -Why the devil don’t he come, that I may ease him -of a little of that superfluous wealth of his? I -swear he gets more swollen day by day, while we -grow lean—eh, Carew?—like the kine in the -Bible. D—— him!”</p> - -<p>“The water goes to the river, as the French -say, in spite of all our dams,” sniggered Carew; -“but as for me I am content that you should go -on playing with Jennico so that I may back him; -my purse has not been in such good condition for -many a long day. Poor devil! How monstrous -unfortunate his amours must still be! I only -wish,” with a conscious wriggle, “he could give -me the recipe.”</p> - -<p>“Yet you have lost on him now,” retorted -Beddoes, tapping his breast pocket, “and if you -back him to-night, you lose on him again, I warn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -you. I am in the vein, I tell ye! But there is -the quarter! Rot him, I believe he is going to -rat after all! Bet you he don’t come till half-past, -Carew. Fifty?”</p> - -<p>“Done,” said Carew quietly, noting down the -entry. “He <i>is</i> erratic, I grant you—he, he, he!—did -you note me, Chevalier? But he has a -taste for the table, though I believe he’d as soon -lose as win, were it only for the sake of change. -’Tis about all he cares for—the dullest dog! -Bet you there is not a man in the room has heard -him laugh.”</p> - -<p>“You won’t find any fool to take up that bet, -Carew. Heigh-ho! I’d willingly accommodate -myself with a little of his melancholy at the price.”</p> - -<p>“Better look up a princess for yourself then, -Jack,” said Carew; “perhaps the Chevalier here -can give you an introduction to some other fascinating -German Highness.”</p> - -<p>“Won’t it do over here?” asked Beddoes, with -a grin. “D’ye think I’d have a chance with Augusta? -Twenty past! Let him keep away till -the half-hour now. Zounds! ’twould be a mean -trick if he failed me on my lucky night; though -I don’t want him for ten minutes yet. He has -fairly cleared me out; the team will have to go -next if I don’t get back some of my I O U’s.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Why, it would be a very good thing for thee, -Jack, if he played thee false. I say so though I -should lose most damnably by it. Thy team will -go, thy coaches will go, thy carts, thy grooms, thy -dog, thy cat. Why, man, thou must lose—’tis as -plain as the nose on Lady Maria’s face. And he -must win, poor wretch, and I too, since I back -him. Ask the Chevalier if it is not a text of -truth all the world over: lucky at cards, unlucky -in love. Never look so sulky, boy; ’tis providential -compensation.”</p> - -<p>“You surprise <i>me</i>, gentlemen,” said the Chevalier, -with a strong guttural accent, lifting as he -spoke his heavy lids for the first time. “I was -not aware that Captain Jennico was so afflicted in -his affections.”</p> - -<p>“You surprise <i>me</i>, Chevalier,” returned Carew -gaily. “I deemed you and he such friends. Why, -I won a hundred from my Lord Ullswater but -yestereven by wagering him that you would be -the only man in the room to whom Jennico would -speak more than ten words within the hour. The -counting was not difficult. He said sixty-four to -you and five to Jack.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Jennico has certainly shown me both kindness -and sympathy,” said the Chevalier, who had -now folded his strong white hands over the pack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -of cards, and sat the very embodiment of repose. -“Doubtless our having both served in the same -part of the world, though under different standards, -has somewhat drawn us together: but he -has not made me his confidant.”</p> - -<p>“And so you don’t know the tale of Jennico -and the Princess? ’Tis a dashed fine tale. Carew, -you are a wit, or think you are—it comes to -much the same thing: tune up, man, give your -version; for,” turning to the Chevalier again, -“there are now as many versions current as days -in the month. ’Tis twenty-five minutes past; -you had better get your I O U ready, Master -Carew.”</p> - -<p>“I have three hundred chances yet,” said Carew. -Then turning to the foreigner, “Would you really, -sir, care to hear the true story of our friend’s discomfiture? -I am about the only man in town that -knows the <i>true</i> one; but all that’s old scandal now—town -talk of last year, as stale as Lady Villiers’s -nine virgin daughters. There are a dozen new -ones since. Would you not rather hear the last -of his Royal Highness the Duke of C. and Lady -W.? That is choice if you like, and as fresh as -Rosalinda’s last admirer—eh, John?”</p> - -<p>“I am not fond,” said the Chevalier drily, “of -hearing those discussed who, being High Born,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -have the right to claim respect and homage. -But I confess to some interest in my friend Mr. -Jennico.”</p> - -<p>“Begad, then,” responded Mr. Carew, flicking -a grain of snuff from the ruffles of his pouting -bosom, “I cannot promise to spare your scruples -concerning scandal in high quarters, for the heroine -of the romance is, it would appear, one of your -own German royalties; but since you wish the -story, you shall have it. There is then a certain -Dorothea Maria Augusta Carolina Sophia, etc., -etc., daughter of some Duke of Alsatia, Swabia, -Dalmatia—no, stay, Lusatia, wherever that may -be; ay, that’s the name—one of your two hundred -odd principalities—you know all about it, I -don’t—and Jennico, who, as you are aware, was -in the Imperial service, met this wondrously beautiful -Princess at some Court function somewhere. -They danced, they conversed, she was fair and -he was fond—fill it in for yourself. He thought -himself a tremendous cock of the walk; to be -brief, he aspired to act King Cophetua and the -beggar maid, turned the other way, with the exception -that he is as rich as Crœsus. He made -so sure of the lady’s favour that he wrote over to -his mother to announce the marriage as a settled -thing. A royal alliance, with the prospect of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -speedily mounting to the throne on the strength -of his wife’s pretensions! Ha, ha!”</p> - -<p>“‘Tis a droll story,” said the Chevalier gravely; -“and then?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, then!—Zounds! you can conceive the -flutter in the dovecot over him. My Lady Jennico, -his mother, was blown out with pride, swimming -in the higher regions, a perfect balloon! -Gad, she would no longer bow to any one less than -a Duke! She ran hither and thither cackling the -news like the hen that has laid an egg. She sent—I -was told on the best authority—to the Lord -Chamberlain to know what precedence the young -couple would be given at the next Birthday. She -called at the College of Arms to inquire about the -exact marshalling of the coat of Lusatia with that -of Jennico. He, he! And whether the resultant -monstrosity would comport a royal crown!”</p> - -<p>“Faith, that’s a good one,” said Sir John, with -a guffaw; “I had not heard <i>that</i>, Carew.”</p> - -<p>“Fact, fact, I assure you,” smiled the wit.</p> - -<p>“Very droll,” repeated M. de Ville-Rouge, with -impassive muscles.</p> - -<p>“When,” continued Carew, “lo and behold, -what a falling off was there, as young Roscius -says! What a come down! Humpty-Dumpty -was nothing to it—poor Lady Jennico’s egg!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -Ah! well, we all know pride must have a fall. -Your fair compatriot, sir, had but amused herself -with the fine Englishman, for which I would be -loath to blame her. She gave him, it is said, -indeed, every pledge of her affection. But when -he began to prate of rings and marriage lines, and -pressed her to become Mrs. Jennico, she found -him a little too presumptuous—at least, I take it -so; and being, it would seem, of a merry turn of -mind, devised a little joke to play upon him. -Pretending to yield at last to his urgency, she -gave her consent to a secret marriage, and in the -dark chapel palmed off her chambermaid upon -him! Ha, ha! So the poor devil, carrying off -his bride by night in high glee, thinking himself -a very fine fellow indeed, never discovered till he -had brought her home that he had given his hand -and name to a squinting, sausage-nosed, carroty -maid, daughter of the Court confectioner, called -in baptism by the Princess’s names, like half the -girls in the town. The story goes that the Princess -with all the Court were waiting at his house -to see the happy pair arrive, and I have had -secret, but absolutely incontestable, information -that the Princess laughed till she had to be bled.”</p> - -<p>M. de Ville-Rouge smiled at last in evident -appreciation of the humour of the situation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is, on my honour, a most comic story,” he -said. “But how come you so well acquainted -with the matter? Surely my poor friend Jennico -has ill-chosen his confidant.”</p> - -<p>“Devil a word have I heard from Jennico,” said -Carew. “Faith, he has ever been the same cheerful, -conversational fellow you wot of, and it would -take a bold man to question him. But truth, you -know, will out—truth will out in time.”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said the Chevalier, and was shaken with -silent merriment.</p> - -<p>“Half-past eleven,” roared the Baronet, suddenly, -stretching out a great paw and snapping -his fingers under the beau’s face.</p> - -<p>“Zounds!” cried the wit, turning to look at the -clock with some discomposure; “no, Jack, no, -there is still a fraction of a minute—the half-hour -has not struck. And, by Heaven, here’s our man! -Had you not better sup with Rosalinda to-night?”</p> - -<p>Sir John, in the act of looking round pettishly—he -had not yet reached that enviable state of mind -in which a gambler declares that the greatest -delight after winning is that of losing—found his -attention unexpectedly arrested by the countenance -of the Chevalier de Ville-Rouge, which presented -at that moment such an extraordinary -appearance that the young man forgot his irritation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -and remained gazing at it in open-mouthed -astonishment.</p> - -<p>The features, usually remarkable for their set, -rather heavy composure, were perturbed to the -verge of distortion. The whole face was stained -with angry purple, the veins of the forehead swollen -like whipcord.</p> - -<p>Sir John Beddoes’s wits were none of the sharpest, -but it was clear even to him that the emotion -thus expressed was one of furious disappointment.</p> - -<p>But while he cudgelled his brains for an explanation -of this sudden humour in a man who was -neither winner nor loser by Basil Jennico’s appearance, -the face of the Chevalier resumed its -wonted indifferent expression and dulness of hue -with a rapidity that altogether confounded the -observer.</p> - -<p>By this time the tall figure of the new-comer -had wended its way down the room and was close -upon them. All turned to greet him, and poor -Sir John found his feelings once more subjected -to a shock.</p> - -<p>The acquaintances of Basil Jennico were accustomed -to find his brow charged with gloom, to see -his cheek wear the pallor of one who sleeps little -and thinks much. But in his demeanour to-night -was more than the usual sombreness, on his countenance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -other than natural pallor. As he stood -for a moment responding absently to the Chevalier’s -hearty greeting, and Carew’s bantering salutation -of “All hail!” it became further apparent -that his dress was disordered, that his ruffles were -torn and blood-stained, that his brocade jacket -was jaggedly rent upon the left side, and also -ominously stained here and there.</p> - -<p>“Gadzooks, man!” exclaimed Carew, his bleared -grey eyes lighting at the prospect of a new wholesale -scandal for his little retail shop. “What has -happened thee? Wounded? How? Ah, best -not inquire perhaps! Beddoes, lad, see you he -has got reasons for his delay. Who knows but -that you may have a chance to-night after all. A -deadly dig, well aimed under the fifth rib, a true -Benedick’s pinking; or shall we say goring?—ahem! -Have a care, Jennico, these wounds from -horned beasts are reputed ill to heal. Ah, sad dog, -sad dog! I will warrant thou hast had the balance -nevertheless to thy credit. Now do I remember -a little lady was casting very curious looks at you -at Almack’s last night.”</p> - -<p>Basil had flung himself into the chair that had -so long awaited him, and seemed to lend but a -half-apprehending ear to the prattler on his left, -who, as he leant towards him, was hardly able to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -restrain his eager hand from fingering the hurt -so unmistakably evidenced. On the right the -Chevalier as unsuccessfully pressed him with -earnest queries, manifesting, it would seem, a -genuine anxiety.</p> - -<p>“Great God, my friend! what has happened?”</p> - -<p>The stentorian tones of Sir John Beddoes, who -saw an opportunity of retrieving his fortunes, here -broke in hastily upon Carew’s flow of words: “Bet -you double or quits it was <i>not</i> Lady Sue,” and -aroused Mr. Jennico’s attention.</p> - -<p>“I should be loath to spoil sport,” he said, “but -I advise no one to bet on my bonnes fortunes. -This scratch—for it is nothing more, Mr. Carew, -and I would show it to you with pleasure in reward -for your flattering interest, but the surgeon has -just bound it up very neatly, and it would be -a pity to disturb his handiwork—is but the sixth -of a series of attempts on my life, made within the -last six weeks, by persons unknown, for purposes -likewise unknown.”</p> - -<p>“Dash it, Jennico, you might have let me enter -the bet,” said the Baronet sulkily, while Carew, -sniffing a choicer titbit of gossip than he had -expected, wriggled with pleasure, and the Chevalier -expressed unbounded amazement that such a state -of things could exist, above all in England.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It is even so,” resumed Basil, turning to the -last speaker as if glad to give vent to some of his -pent-up irritation. “I confess that when I returned -to my native land I did expect to find at -least a quiet life. Why, in my house at Tollendhal, -where those who surrounded me were half savages, -ruled by the stick and the halter, where -it was deemed imprudent for the master to walk -the roads without his body-guard, there was never -so much as a stone thrown after me. But here, -in old England, my life, I believe, would not be -worth backing for a week.” He looked round -with a smile in which melancholy and disdain were -blended.</p> - -<p>“Now, d—— me!” cried Sir John, struck in -his easy good nature into sudden warmth and -sympathy, “nay, now d—— me, Jennico! I will -take any man a hundred guineas that you are alive -this day month.”</p> - -<p>“Done!” said the Chevalier, with such unexpected -energy that all three turned round to -look at him with surprise; perceiving which he -went on, laughing to conceal an evident embarrassment: -“Your betting habits here are infectious, -but while I will not withdraw, I am prepared -to be glad to lose rather than gain for once.” He -fixed Basil across the table with his brooding eye<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -as he spoke, and bowed to him, then turned to the -Baronet. “No, Sir Beddoes, I am not going to -recede from the wager.”</p> - -<p>This, as a wager worth recording, was forthwith -entered into the club book. Basil looked on, half -in amusement, half in bitterness.</p> - -<p>“‘Tis likely, after all,” he said, addressing Sir -John, “that you may win and that the Chevalier -may be afforded the pleasure of losing, for I seem -to bear a charmed life. Perhaps,” he added with -a sigh, “because I care so little for it. Though -to be sure there is something galling to a man in -being shot at from behind a hedge and set on in -the dark; in not knowing where the murderer may -be lying in wait for him, at what street corner, at -what turn of the road, behind what hayrick. If I -have not kept my appointment over punctually -to-night, it is because a rogue has had me by the -Park gateway in Piccadilly. There is more here -than mere accidental villainy. The next will be -that I shall see murder in my own servant’s eyes. -Or, who knows, find it lying at the bottom of my -cup. Pah! I am as bold as most men; I would -welcome death more readily than most; but, by -Heaven! it is unfair treatment, and I have had -more than my share of it.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Jennico,” said Carew, “you never spoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -a word of this before. A fellow has no right to -keep such doings dark. Tell us the details.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, tell us all about it,” said Sir John, with -round eyes ready to start from their orbits.</p> - -<p>“True,” said Basil, “you have now an interest, -Jack, in knowing what sort of odds are against -you. Well, you shall learn all you wish; but let -us to supper, gentlemen, meanwhile, that we may -lose no further time and start better fortified upon -the evening’s business, if Beddoes is still anxious -for his revenge.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER V</h2> - -<p class="pch"><span class="smcap">Narrative of an Episode at White’s continued</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was over a dish of devilled kidneys and a -couple of bottles of Burgundy that—pressed by -the eager curiosity of his English friends, no less -than by the interest M. de Ville-Rouge continued -to profess in his concerns with all Teutonic earnestness—Basil -Jennico began to narrate his misadventures -in the same tone of ironical resentment -with which he had already alluded to them.</p> - -<p>“It began at Farringdon Dane,” he said, “on -the little property in Suffolk which my mother -has placed at my disposal. ’Twas some six weeks -gone, walking through the wood at sundown, I -was shot at from behind a tree. The charge -passed within an inch of my face, to embed itself -in a sapling behind me. I was, according to my -wont—an evil habit—deeply absorbed in thought, -and was alone; consequently, although I searched -the copse from end to end, I could find no trace -of my well-wisher. That was number one. I -gave very little heed to the occurrence at first,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -believing it to be some poacher’s trick, or maybe -the unwitting act of what you call in your country, -Chevalier, a Sunday sportsman, who mistook my -brown beaver for the hide of a nobler quarry. -But the next attempt gave me more serious food -for reflection. This time I was shot at while sitting -reading in my study at night, when all the -household had retired. It was close weather, and -I had drawn the curtains and opened the windows. -The bullet again whizzed by my ear, and this time -shattered the lamp beside me. No doubt the total -darkness which ensued saved me from a second -and better aim.”</p> - -<p>“You are a fortunate young man,” said the -Chevalier gravely.</p> - -<p>“Do you think so, Chevalier?” answered Jennico, -with a smile which all the bitterness of his -thoughts could not altogether rob of sweetness. “I -do not think any one need envy my fate. Well, -gentlemen, you can conceive the uproar which -ensued upon the event I have just described. The -best efforts of myself, my servants, and my dogs -failed, however, to track the fugitive, although the -marks of what seemed a very neat pair of shoes -were imprinted on my mother’s most choice flowerbeds. -After this adventure I received a couple -more of such tokens of good-will in the country.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -Once I was shot at crossing a ford in full daylight, -and my poor nag was struck; this time I did catch -a glimpse of the scoundrel, but he was mounted -too, and poor Bess, though she did her utmost, -fell dead after the first twenty strides in pursuit. -Thereupon my mother grew so morbidly nervous, -and the mystery resisting all our attempts at elucidation, -I gave way to her entreaties and returned -to London, where she deemed I would find myself -in greater safety.”</p> - -<p>“And has your friend followed you up here?” -exclaimed Sir John, forgetting his supper in his -interest. “By George, this is a good story!”</p> - -<p>“I was stopped on the road by a highwayman,” -answered Mr. Jennico quietly. “Nothing unusual -in that, you will say; but there was something a -little out of the common nevertheless in the fact -that he fired his pistol at me without the formality -of bidding me stand and deliver; which formality, -I believe, is according to the etiquette of the road. -I am glad to tell you that I think we left our mark -on the gentleman this time, for as he rode away -he bent over his saddle, we thought, like one who -will not ride very far. But, faith! the brood is -not extirpated, and the worthy folk who display -such an interest in me, finding hot lead so unsuccessful, -have now taken to cold steel.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> - -<p>Sir John Beddoes damned his immortal soul -with great fervour.</p> - -<p>“Pray, sir,” remarked Mr. Carew with an insinuating -smile, “may not the identity of the -murderer be of easier solution than you deem? -Are there no heirs to your money?”</p> - -<p>“I might pretend to misunderstand you, Mr. -Carew,” said Basil, flushing, “although your meaning -is plain. Permit me to say, however, that I -fail to find a point to the jest.”</p> - -<p>“‘Twas hardly likely you would find humour in -a point so inconveniently aimed against yourself,” -answered Carew airily. “But ’tis a rarity, Jennico, -to find a man ready to take up the cudgels -for his heirs and successors. Nevertheless, I -crave your pardon, the more so because I am -fain to know what befell you to-night.”</p> - -<p>“To-night was an ill night to choose for so -evil an attempt,” said the Chevalier, rousing -himself from a fit of musing and looking reflectively -round upon the fog, which hung ever -closer even in the warm and well-lit room.</p> - -<p>“It was the very night for their purpose, my -dear Chevalier,” returned the young man with -artificial gaiety. “Faith, it was like to have succeeded -with them, and I make sure mine enemy, -whoever he may be, is pluming himself even now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -upon the world well rid of my cumbersome existence. -I was on foot, too, and what with the darkness -and emptiness of the streets I was, I may say, -delivered into their hands. But they are sad bunglers. -One of my pretty fellows in Moravia would -have done such a job for me, were I in the way to -require it, as cleanly and with as little ado as you -pick your first pheasant in October, Jack. And -yet it may be that I am providentially preserved—preserved -for a better fate.” Here he tossed off -his glass as if to a silent toast.</p> - -<p>“But why on foot, my dear Jennico? On foot—fie, -fie, and in this weather! What could you -expect?” cried Carew with a shiver of horror.</p> - -<p>“If you were not so fond of interruption, Mr. -Carew,” said the Chevalier with a sinister smile, -“perhaps we might sooner get to the end of Mr. -Jennico’s story. We are all eagerness to hear -about this last miraculous preservation.”</p> - -<p>“I hardly know myself how I come to be alive! -I could get no sedan, my dear Carew, and that -was just the rub. What with Lady Bedford’s -card-party and the fog, there was not one to be -had within a mile, and I had given my stablemen -a holiday. I sent my servant upon the quest for -a chair, but got tired of waiting, mindful of my -appointment with my friend and neighbour here,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -and so it was that I set forth, as I said, on foot -and alone. The mist was none so thick but that -I could find my way, and I was pursuing it at a -round pace when, opposite Devonshire House, -some fellow bearing a link crossed from over the -road, came straight upon me without a word, -raised his torch, and peered intently into my face. -I halted, but before I could demand the meaning -of his insolence down went his fire-brand fizzing -into the mud, out came his sword, and I was -struck with such extreme violence that, in the -very attempt to recover my balance, I fell backwards -all my length upon the pavement, skewered -like a chicken, and carrying the skewer with me. -Some gentlemen happened to reach the spot at -that moment, there was a cry for the watch, but -the rogue had made good use of his heels and -the fog, and was out of sight and hearing in a -moment.”</p> - -<p>“Verdammt villain!” cried M. de Ville-Rouge, -whose brow had grown ever blacker during this -account. “Say, my amiable friend, did you not -get even a lunge at him?”</p> - -<p>“Lunge, man! I was skewered, I tell you; I -could not even draw! His sword—’twas as sharp -as a razor, a fine sword, I have had it brought to -my chambers—had gone clean through innumerable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -folds of cloak and cape, back and front, only -to graze my ribs after all. It was bent double by -the fall, and it took the strength of the watchman -and the two gentlemen to draw it out again. -By George! they thought I was spitted beyond -hope.”</p> - -<p>“A foul affair altogether,” murmured Carew -absently; but the sorry jest was lost in the strident -tones of the Chevalier, who now anxiously -plied Basil as to the surgeon’s opinion of the -wound, and expressed himself relieved beyond -measure by the reply.</p> - -<p>At this juncture Sir John Beddoes, who had -drunk enough to inflame his gambler’s ardour to -boisterous pitch, began to clamour for his promised -revenge, and the whole party once more -adjourned to the card-room.</p> - -<p>In his heart, Basil Jennico would have been -genuinely glad to be unsuccessful at the hazard -that night; partly from a good-natured dislike to -be the cause of the foolish young man’s complete -ruin, partly from a more personal feeling of superstition. -But the luck ran as persistently in his -favour as ever.</p> - -<p>Carew, with drawn tablets, began loudly to back -the winner, challenging all his acquaintance to -wager against him. But although the high play<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -and Sir John’s increasing excitement and restlessness, -as well as the extraordinary good fortune -which cleaved to Jennico, soon attracted a circle -of watchers, men were chary of courting what -seemed certain loss, and Carew found his easy -gains not likely further to accrue.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the Chevalier, who, with his cheek -resting upon his hand, had seemed plunged in -deep reflection ever since they had left the supper-room, -rose, and with an air of geniality which sat -awkwardly enough upon him, cried out to the surprise -of all—for he had not been wont to back -any player in the club:</p> - -<p>“And there is really no one to side with my -good friend Beddoes to-night? Why then, Mr. -Carew, I will be the man. Thunder-weather, -Beddoes,” clapping him on the shoulder—“I -believe the luck will turn yet; so brave a heart -must needs force fortune! What shall it be, Mr. -Carew? Something substantial to encourage our -friend.”</p> - -<p>Jennico looked down at the pile of vouchers -which lay at his elbow. It amounted already to -a terrible sum. Then he looked across at the -boy’s face, drawn, almost haggard in spite of its -youth and chubbiness, and sighed impatiently. -He could not advise the fool to go home to bed;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -yet for himself he was heartily sick of these -winnings. The dice were thrown again, Sir -John’s hand trembling like a leaf; and again -Basil won, and again vouchers were added to the -heap.</p> - -<p>M. de Ville-Rouge threw a dark glance at the -winner as he stepped up to Carew to settle his -own debt.</p> - -<p>“You should not have backed me,” said Sir -John ruefully, lifting his eyes from the contemplation -of the paper that meant for him another step -towards ruin. “The devil’s in it; I will play no -more to-night!”</p> - -<p>“Nay, then,” cried the Chevalier, “by your -leave I will take your place. I for one am no -such believer in the continuance of Mr. Jennico’s -good luck.”</p> - -<p>There was something harsh, almost offensive, in -the tone of the last words, and Basil turned in -surprise towards the speaker.</p> - -<p>“The Chevalier,” he said, “is very ready to risk -his gold against me to-night.”</p> - -<p>“‘Tis so, sir,” returned the Chevalier, with such -singular arrogance that the watchers looked at -each other significantly, and Carew whispered to -a young man behind his chair, “Faith, our foreign -friend is a bad loser after all!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> - -<p>Basil had flushed, but he made no reply, and -contented himself with raising his eyebrows somewhat -contemptuously, while he languidly pushed -his own dice-box across the table towards his new -opponent.</p> - -<p>“Come,” said the Chevalier, seizing it and shaking -it fiercely, “I will not mince the stake. A -hundred guineas on the main.”</p> - -<p>He threw, and the result of all his rattling being -after all the lowest cast of the evening, there -was an ill-suppressed titter round the table. Basil -made no attempt to hide his smile as he lazily -turned over his dice and threw just one higher.</p> - -<p>The German’s face had grown suffused with -dark angry crimson; the veins of his throat and -his temples began to swell.</p> - -<p>“Double or quits,” he cried huskily. He threw -and lost; doubled his stake, threw and lost again.</p> - -<p>There was something about the scene that -aroused the audience to more potent interest than -the ordinary nightly repeated spectacle of loss and -gain.</p> - -<p>The extraordinary passion displayed by the -foreigner, not only in his inflamed countenance, -but in the very motion of his hands, in the rigid -tension of his whole body, presented a strange -contrast to the languor of his opponent. It was,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -moreover, a revelation in one who had been -known hitherto as courteous and composed to -formality.</p> - -<p>“It is to be hoped some one has a lancet,” said -Carew, “for I believe the gentleman will have an -apoplexy unless a little blood be let soon.”</p> - -<p>“I fear me,” answered his companion, “that -there will be more blood let than you think for. -Did you mark that look?”</p> - -<p>At the same instant the Chevalier flung down -his box with such violence that the dice, rebounding, -flew about the room, and gazed across at -Basil with open hatred, as one glad to give vent -at last to long-pent-up fury.</p> - -<p>“By Heaven, Mr. Jennico!” he cried, “were it -not that I have been told how well you have -qualified for this success, I should think there -was more in such marvellous throwing of dice -than met the eye. But your love affairs, I hear,—and -I should have borne it in mind,—have -been so disastrous, so more than usually disastrous,” -here his voice broke into a sort of -snarl, “as to afford sufficient explanation for the -marvel.”</p> - -<p>There was a cold silence. Then Jennico rose, -white as death.</p> - -<p>“If you know so much about me, sir,” he said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -in tones that for all the anger that vibrated in -them fell harmoniously upon the ear after the -Chevalier’s savage outburst, “you should know -too that there is a subject upon which I never -allow any one to touch. Your first insinuation I -pass over with the contempt it deserves, but as -regards your observation on what you are pleased -to call my love affairs, I can only consider it as an -intentional insult. And this is my answer.”</p> - -<p>The German in his turn had sprung to his feet, -but Basil Jennico leant across the table, and before -he could guard himself struck him lightly but -deliberately across the mouth.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="pc elarge">PART III</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/b1.jpg" width="100" height="25" - alt="" - title="" /> -</div> - -<h2 class="p2">CHAPTER I</h2> - -<p class="pch1"><span class="smcap">Memoir of Captain Basil Jennico</span> (<span class="smcap">RESUMED IN THE -SPRING OF THE YEAR 1773</span>)</p> - - -<p class="pr2 reduct"><span class="smcap">In my Castle of Tollendhal</span>, <i>March, 1773</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is the will of one whose wishes are law to -me that I should proceed with these pages, begun -under such stress of mental trouble, until I bring -the tangled story of Basil Jennico’s marriage to its -singular settlement.</p> - -<p>Without, as I now write, all over the land, the -ice-bound brooks are melting, and our fields and -roads are deep in impassable mud. The whole -air is full of the breath of spring, as grateful to the -nostrils as it is stirring to the blood of man, to the -sap of trees.</p> - -<p>But it is ill getting about, for all that the springtime -is so sweet—as sweet and as capricious as a -woman wooed—and thus there is time for this occupation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -of scribe; yet it is a curious task for one -bred to so vastly different a trade; neither, God -knows, do I find time heavy on my hands just -now! Nevertheless, I must even end this preface -as I have begun it, and say that I am fain to do as -I am bidden.</p> - -<p>The last line I traced upon these sheets (I am -filled with a good deal of wonder at, and no little -admiration of myself, when I view what a goodly -mass I have already blackened) was penned at one -of the darkest moments of that dark year.</p> - -<p>M. de Schreckendorf—little messenger of such -ill omen—had but just departed, and in the month -that followed his visit the courage had failed me -to resume my melancholy record, though truly I -had things to relate that a man might consider like -to form a more than usually thrilling chapter of -autobiography.</p> - -<p>Towards the beginning of September, I, still a -dweller upon my mother’s little property—most -peaceful haunt, it would seem, in the heart of our -peaceful land—began to find myself the object of -a series of murderous attacks—these, so repeated -and inveterate, that it was evident that they were -dictated by the most deliberate purpose, and the -more alarming, perhaps, that I could give then no -guess from what quarter they proceeded.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> - -<p>Suspicion fell on a poaching gang, on a dishonest -groom, on a discharged bailiff. At length, -seeing my mother like to fall ill of the anxiety, I -consented to return to London, although the country -life and the wholesome excitement of sport had -afforded me a relief from my restlessness which -existence in the town was far from providing.</p> - -<p>No sooner, however, was I fully installed in -my London chambers, than the persecution began -afresh. I had fallen into an idle habit of going -night after night to White’s, there to bet and gamble -with my modish acquaintances. ’Twas not that -the dice had any special attraction for me, but that -my nights were so long.</p> - -<p>On my way thither one mid-October foggy evening, -my life was once more attempted, and this -time with a deliberation and ferocity which might -well have proved successful at last.</p> - -<p>As it was, however, I again providentially escaped, -and was able to proceed to the club, where -I had an appointment with a poor youth—our -Norfolk neighbour, Sir John Beddoes—who had -already lost a great deal of money to me, and -would not be content until he had lost a great deal -more: I had the most insupportable good luck.</p> - -<p>I little knew that I should find awaiting me -there the greatest danger I had yet to run;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -that the head which had directed all these blows -in the dark was, de guerre lasse, preparing to -attack me in the open, and push its malice -to a certain climax. A foreign gentleman—one -Chevalier de Ville-Rouge, as I knew him then—had -sedulously sought first my acquaintance, and -thereupon my company, for some weeks past. -And though I had not found him very entertaining—I -was not in the mood to be entertained -by any one—I had no reason to deny him either -the one or the other.</p> - -<p>But this night, after first addressing me with -looks and tones which began to strike me as unwarrantable, -he sat a round of hazard with me, -for the sole and determined purpose, as I even -then saw, of grossly insulting me. As a reply, I -struck him across the face, for, however transparent -was the trap laid for me, the provocation before -witnesses was of a kind I could not pass over. -And, ’fore Heaven, I believe I was in my heart -glad of the diversion!</p> - -<p>The meeting was fixed for the next morning. -Neither of us would consent to delay, and indeed -the German’s whole demeanour, once he had given -a loose rein to his fury, was more that of a wild -beast thirsting for blood than of a being endowed -with reason.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> - -<p>Both Sir John Beddoes and Mr. Carew, who had -formed our party, indignant at the coarseness of -the foreigner’s behaviour, volunteered on the spot -to be my seconds, and Carew, who has a subtle -knowledge of the etiquette of honour, arranged the -details of our meeting. It was to take place in -Chelsea Gardens half an hour after sunrise. The -weapons chosen by M. de Ville-Rouge were swords, -for although the quarrel had been of his own seeking, -my blow had given him the right of choice.</p> - -<p>It was two o’clock before I found myself again -alone in my rooms that night, my friends having -conducted me home, and seeming somewhat loath -to retire. I was longing for a couple of hours’ -solitude before the dawn of the day which might -be my last. I felt that my career had reached its -turning-point, that this was an event otherwise -serious than any of the quarrels in which I had -been hitherto embroiled, and that the conduct of -affairs was not in my hands.</p> - -<p>Carew was anxious about me—he had never -yet seen a duellist of my kidney, I believe—and -my very quietness puzzled him.</p> - -<p>“Make that nutcracker attendant of yours prepare -you a hot drink, man,” cried he, as at last, -with honest Beddoes, he withdrew, “and get to bed. -Nothing will steady your hand like a spell of sleep.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> - -<p>But there was no sleep for me. Besides that -the pain of the slight wound which I had received -in the night’s guet-apens was stiffening to great -soreness, there was an excitement in my brain—partially -due to the fever incident on the hurt—which -would not permit the thought of rest.</p> - -<p>I had but little business to transact. In view -of the present uncertainty of my life, I had recently -drawn up a will in which, after certain fitting -legacies, I left my great fortune to my wife. Now -I merely gathered together the whole of this accumulated -narrative of mine into a weighty packet, -and after addressing it, deposited it in János’s hands -with the strict injunction, in the event of my demise, -to deliver it personally to Ottilie.</p> - -<p>No farewell message would be so eloquent as -these pages in which I had laid bare the innermost -thoughts of my soul since I first knew her. She -should receive no other message from me. I next -tore up poor Beddoes’s litter of I O U’s, and making -a parcel of the fragments directed it to him. -János received my instructions with his usual taciturn -docility, yet if anything could have roused me -from the curious state of apathy in which I found -myself, it would have been the sight of the dumb -concern on the faithful fellow’s countenance.</p> - -<p>Having thus put all my worldly affairs in order,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> -I sat me down in my armchair, awaiting the dawn, -and viewed the past as one who has done with -life. I had a strong presentiment upon me that -I should not survive the meeting.</p> - -<p>At times, the vision of my wife sleeping, at that -very moment, as I had so often watched her sleep, -lightly and easily as a child, little wotting, little -caring, perhaps, if she had wotted, of her husband’s -solemn vigil, would rise up before me with -a vividness so cruel as well-nigh to rouse me. But -the new calmness of my soul defied these assaults; -an unknown philosophy had succeeded to the violence -of my emotions.</p> - -<p>When my seconds called for me in the first greyness -of the morning they found me ready for them. -They themselves were shivering from the raw cold, -with arms thrust to the elbows into the depths of -their muffs; Carew, all yellow and shrivelled,—an -old man of a sudden,—and Beddoes, blue and -purple, the sleep still in his swollen eyes, hardly -able to keep his teeth from chattering—a very -schoolboy! They could scarce conceal their -amazement at my placidity. It was not, indeed, -that I found myself bodily fit for the contest, for -the whole of my left side was stiff, and I could -hardly move that arm without pain; yet placid I -was, I scarcely now know why.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> - -<p>Thus we set forth in Sir John Beddoes’s coach, -János on the box, and a civil, shy young man on -the back seat beside Beddoes: this was, the latter -informed me, the best surgeon he had been able -to secure at such short notice.</p> - -<p>The fog disappeared, and when the mists evaporated -it promised to be a fine, bright, frosty -morning.</p> - -<p>Now, it may be after all that I was a little light-headed -with the heat of the wound in my blood, -for I have no very clear recollections of that morning. -It remains in my mind rather as a bright-coloured -fantasy than a series of events I have -actually lived through.</p> - -<p>I remember, as a man may remember a scene in -a play, a garden running down to the river-side, -very bare and desolate, and the figure and face -of my bulky antagonist as he conferred excitedly -with two outlandish-looking men, his seconds. -These had fierce moustaches, and reminded me -vaguely of the cravat captains I had known in -the Empire. Then the scene shifts: we stand -facing each other. I am glad of the chill of the -air, with nothing between it and my fevered breast -but the thinness of my shirt. But my opponent -stamps like a menacing bull, as if furious at the -benumbing blasts. Now I am fighting—fighting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -for my life—as never in battle or in single combat -have I had need to fight before. This is -no courteous duel between gentlemen, no honourable -meeting, but the struggle of a man with -his murderer. Physically at a disadvantage from -my hurt, I am moreover conscious that against -this brute fury all my skill at arms is of no -avail and my strength is rapidly failing. Then, -as he drives me by the sheer weight of his mass, -I see his face thrust forward into mine, distorted -with such a frenzy that I wonder in a sort of -unformed way why this man should thus thirst -to kill me. The next moment, with an extraordinary -sense of universal failure and disorganisation -which is yet not pain, I realise that I am hit—badly -hit.</p> - -<p>Upon that instant I find my brain cleared to -a lucidity I have never felt before. I see my -opponent’s sword flash ruby red with my own -blood in the sun rays; I see him smile, a smile -of glorious triumph, which cuts a deep dimple -beside his lip; I hear him pant at me the strange -words, “Ha! Ottilie!” and then I am again -seared, rent once more, and to the sound of a -howl of many voices my world falls into chaos -and exists no more.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> - -<table id="ttb1" summary="tb1"> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<p>It is sometimes but a short and easy way up to -the gates of death, but a long and weary journey -back to life. It was a long and weary journey to me.</p> - -<p>I was like to a man who travels in the dead of -night over rough ways, and now and again slumbers -uneasily with troubled dreams, and now looks -out upon a glimmer of light in some house or -village, and now on nothing but the pitchy darkness; -and yet he is always travelling on and on -till he is weary with madness of fatigue. And -then, as the dawn breaks upon the wanderer, and -he sees a strange land around him, so the dawn -of what seemed a new existence began to break -for me, and I looked upon life anew with wondering -eyes.</p> - -<p>At first I looked as the traveller may, with eyes -so tired and drowsy as scarce to care to notice. -But in yet a little while I warmed and quickened -to the sun of returning health. I began to be -something more than a mere tortured mass of -humanity; each breath was no longer misery to -draw; the mind was able to re-assert authority -over the flesh. That dark, watchful figure that -seemed to have been sitting at the foot of my -bed for centuries, that was János! Poor old fellow! -I could not yet speak to him, but I could -smile. My next thought was amaze that I should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -be in a strange room; it had a very teasing tapestry; -its figures had worried me long before I -could notice them. In a little while I began to -understand that I was not in my own chambers, -and to feel such irritation at the liberty which had -been taken with me that I should have demanded -instant explanation had my strength been equal to -the task.</p> - -<p>But I come of too vigorous stock, the blood -that runs in my veins is too sweet—because I -have not, like so many young fools of my day, -poisoned it with endless potations and dissoluteness—for -me, when once on the broad high road -to recovery (to continue my travelling simile), to -dally over the ground.</p> - -<p>Moreover I was too well nursed. János, it -seems, after the first couple of visits, in each of -which I was wisely bled of the diminished store -the Chevalier’s sword had left in my veins—János -had had a great quarrel with the surgeon, -vowing he would not see his master’s murder -completed before his eyes and never a chance of -hanging the murderer.</p> - -<p>It had ended in the old soldier taking the law -into his own hands, dismissing the man of medicine, -and treating me after his own lights. He -had had a fairly good apprenticeship, having<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -attended my uncle through all his campaigns. -As far as I am concerned I am convinced that -in this, as well as in another matter which I -am about to relate, he saved my life.</p> - -<p>The other matter has reference to the very -change of quarters which had excited my ire, the -true explanation of which, however, I did not receive -until I was strong enough to entertain visitors. -János would give me little or no satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“I thought in myself it would be more wholesome -for your honour than your other house,” was -the utmost I could extract. Indeed, he strenuously -discouraged all conversation. But the day when -this stern guardian first consented to admit Carew -and Beddoes to my presence,—and that was not -till I could sit up in bed and converse freely,—all -that I had been curious about was made clear to -me.</p> - -<p>Carew, indeed, had the virtue of being an excellent -gossip. I had at one time deemed it his -only quality, but I learned better then. Both the -gentlemen, each in his own fashion, displayed a -certain emotion at seeing me again, in which -pleasure at the fact of my being still in the land -of the living, and likely to remain so, was qualified -by the painful impression produced by my altered -appearance.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> - -<p>Sir John, the boy, sat himself down on the edge -of my bed and squeezed my hand in silence, with -something like tears in his eyes. Carew, the roué, -was very deliberate in his choice of a chair, took -snuff with a vast deal of elegant gesture, and -fired off, with it might be an excess of merriment, -such jocularities as he had gathered ready against -the occasion. Both of them seemed to deem it -incumbent upon them to avoid any reference to the -duel. I, however, very promptly brought up the -subject.</p> - -<p>“Now, for God’s sake,” I said, “let a poor man -who has been kept like a child with a cross nurse—take -your pap, go to sleep, ask no questions—learn -at last a little about himself. In the first -place, where am I? In the second, what has become -of the red devil who brought me to this -pass?”</p> - -<p>“In the first place, Jennico,” said Carew, “you -are at the house of Lady Beddoes, mother to -our friend here, a very pleasing little residence -situate on Richmond Hill. Secondly, that red -devil, as you call him, that most damnable villain, -has fled the country, as well he might, for if ever -a knave deserved stringing up as high as Haman—but -of that anon. There is a good deal to -tell you if you think you can bear the excitement.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well,” he pursued, upon my somewhat pettish -asseveration, “I myself think a little pleasant conversation -will do you more good than harm. To -begin with, you are doubtless not aware that you -are a dead man.”</p> - -<p>“How?” cried I, a little startled, for my nerve -was yet none of the strongest.</p> - -<p>“Nay, nay, dash you, Carew,” interposed Sir -John, “don’t ye make those jokes. Gruesome, -I call ’em: it makes me creep! No, Basil, lad, -thou art alive, and wilt live to set that Chevalier, -whoever he may be, swinging for it yet.” And -here in his eager partisanship he broke into a -volley of execrations which would have run my -poor great-uncle’s performances pretty close.</p> - -<p>“Why,” said I impatiently, “‘tis enigma to me -still why I am here; why I am dead; why the -Chevalier should hang. I think you have all -sworn to drive me mad among you.”</p> - -<p>I was so evidently exasperated that Beddoes, -all of a tremble, besought Carew to explain the -situation.</p> - -<p>“He’ll do himself a mischief,” he cried pathetically; -“do you tell him, Carew,—you know what -a fool I am!”</p> - -<p>Carew was nothing loath to set about what was -indeed the chief pleasure of his life, the retailing of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -scandal; and it seems that the Jennico duel was -a very pretty scandal indeed.</p> - -<p>“I will take your last question first,” said he, -settling himself to his task with gusto. “Why the -Chevalier should hang? Who he really is, where -he comes from, why he hates you with such deadly -hatred, Jennico, are all mysteries which I confess -myself unable to fathom—doubtless you can furnish -us with the clue by-and-by.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke his pale eye kindled with a most -devouring curiosity. Nevertheless as I showed no -desire to interrupt him by any little confidence, he -proceeded glibly:</p> - -<p>“But why the Chevalier should hang is another -matter. Gadzooks, I’d run him down myself were -it but for his impudence in getting gentlemen like -myself to come and see foul play. Why, Jennico, -man, don’t you know that after charging you like -a bull, and running you once through the body, the -scoundrel stabbed you again as you were sinking -down and the sword had dropped from your hand. -I doubt me he would have spitted you a third time -to make quite sure, had not Beddoes and I fallen -upon him.”</p> - -<p>“I’d have run him through,” here interposed -Sir John excitedly; “I had drawn for it, had I not, -Dick?—and I’d have run him through, but that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -the surgeon called out that you were dead; and -dash me, between the turn I got and the way -those queer seconds of his hustled him away, I lost -the chance! And the three of them ran, they ran -like rats, to the river. Gad, I’d have left my mark -on them even then, but Carew, be hanged to him, -held on by my coat-tails.”</p> - -<p>“‘Tis just as Jack told you,” said Carew. “No -sooner had they heard you were dead, my friend, -than they ran for it, and it is quite true that I -restrained Jack here from sticking them in the -back as they skedaddled. A pretty affair of -honour, indeed!”</p> - -<p>I lay back on my pillows awhile, musing. I -had had time to reflect on many things these -days, and—God knows—there were enigmas -enough in my life to give me food for reflection. -What I had just heard caused me no surprise, -tallying as it did with conclusions I had previously -reached.</p> - -<p>After a moment Carew cleared his throat, edged -his chair a foot nearer, and queried confidentially: -“Did it never strike you that the Chevalier must -have been part and parcel, if not the moving spirit, -of those attacks upon your life which you told us -of that night at the club? You did not appear to -have a notion of it then. Yet there was not a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -of us there who did not see but the quarrel was -deliberately got up.”</p> - -<p>“And d’ye mind,” cried Sir John, “how he bet -me you would not live a month?”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said Carew, “and Jennico knows best -himself if in his gay youth, in foreign parts, he -has not given good cause for this mortal enmity, -though to be sure the mystery thickens when we -remember how friendly you were with each other. -Jennico is such a close dog; he keeps such a -dashed tight counsel!”</p> - -<p>I smiled. Jennico would keep his counsel still. -I meant these good fellows should expound my -riddles for me, not I theirs.</p> - -<p>“But since I am dead,” said I, “I fear, Jack, -thou hast lost on me again.”</p> - -<p>“The gentleman did not leave his address,” said -Sir John with a grin; and he furtively squeezed -my hand to express his secret sense of the little -transaction of the I O U’s.</p> - -<p>“We made some clamour at the Embassy, I -promise you,” interposed Carew; “we were anxious -to pay him all his due, you may be sure. -But devil a bit of satisfaction could we get, save -indeed that the Ambassador took to his bed with -a fit of gout, and you being dead, Jennico,—you -are dead still, remember,—to bury you was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -best thing your friends could do for you, till you -were able to take fit measures to protect yourself. -And indeed it was that queer old Tartar of yours, -your János, or whatever you call him, who loudly -insisted upon your demise, when we found the first -alarm was unfounded and that you still breathed. -Gad, I believe you have as many lives as a cat! -This fellow then says to us in his queer jargon: -’My master lives, but he must all the same be -thought dead.’ And faith he besought us with -such urgency, that, what with seeing you lying -there, and knowing what we knew of the foul -play that had been practised upon you, we were -ready enough to fall in with his desires. Sir John -bethought him of his mother’s house at Richmond, -and offered to accompany you there,—or rather -your body: you were little less just then. Next -the surgeon swore the journey would kill you, and -your servant swore you should not be harboured -in the town. The fellow knew you: ’Good breed,’ -he said, ’not easily killed!’ And so he won the -day, and Miles the surgeon gave in; but indeed he -told me apart, ’twas waste of time disputing, for -anyhow you could not see the noon. But here -you are at my Lady Beddoes’s house at Richmond, -alive and like to live, though you have ceased to -exist for most men. There was a charming, really<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -a most touching, obituary notice in the Gazettes; -you have been duly lamented at the clubs—and -forgotten within the usual nine days. Rumours -will soon begin to get about of course, but nobody -knows anything positive. The secret is still kept. -János, I believe, has contrived to assuage the anxiety -of your relatives.”</p> - -<p>Here the speaker took so copious a pinch to -refresh himself after his long speech that he set -me off sneezing, whereupon my special Cerberus -promptly made his appearance and bundled the -visitors forth without more ado.</p> - -<table id="ttb2" summary="tb2"> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<p>I have said that my friend’s belief in the Chevalier’s -implication in the divers murderous onsets -that had been made upon me, previous to his own, -did not surprise me. The memory of M. de Ville-Rouge’s -cry, as he dealt me what he believed my -death stroke,—a cry in which it would be hard -to say whether savage triumph or sheer vindictiveness -most predominated,—had come back on me, -as soon as I could think at all, with most revealing -force.</p> - -<p>His arrival in England had coincided with the -beginning of the persecution. The look on his -face as I had last seen it, that smile and that -dimple, had haunted me during long hours of delirium<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -with a most maddening, grotesque, and horrible -likeness to the face of her I had so loved. -Coupling these things in later sanity of mind with -the other evidence, I could not doubt but that here -had been some relative of Ottilie, who had interest -to put an end to her husband’s existence. Had -not her pock-marked Mercury at the close of our -interview uttered words of earnest warning? ay, -I minded them now:</p> - -<p>“The matter will not end here.... Have a -care, young man....”</p> - -<p>As I thought of all this, as the whole meaning -of what had seemed so mysterious now lay clear -before me, I would be seized with a sort of deadly -anguish, compared to which all my previous sufferings, -whether of body or mind, had been but -trivial. Could she, could Ottilie, have <i>known</i> of -this work? Could she—have <i>inspired</i> it?</p> - -<p>The sweat that would break out upon me at -such a thought was more than all my fever had -wrung from my body, and my faithful leech would -wonder to find me faint and reeking, and would -puzzle his poor brains in vain upon the cause, and -decoct me new teas of dreadful compounds, febrifuges -which he vowed had never failed.</p> - -<p>But then at other times the vision of my wife -would rise before me and shame me. I would see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -again her noble brow, her clear eye, her arched -and innocent lip, and in my weakness and the -passion of my longing I would turn and weep -upon my pillow to think that, having to my sorrow -lost her, I should come now to lose even my faith -in her, and yet should love her still with such mad -love.</p> - -<p>Now there must be, as János would have it, -something remarkably tough in the breed of Jennico -for me to recover from such wounds both -bodily and mental. Recover I did, however, in -spite of all odds; and a resolve I made with returning -strength did a good deal to ease my mind, -tossed between such torturing fluctuations.</p> - -<p>This resolve was no less than to leave the country -some fine morning, in secret, so soon as I -could undertake the journey with any likelihood -of being able to persevere in it, to speed to Budissin, -and discover for myself the real attitude of -Ottilie towards me. I was determined that, according -as I found her,—either what my heart -would still deem her, or yet so base a thing as the -fiend whispered,—that I would try to win her -back, were I to die in the attempt, or thrust her -from my life for ever.</p> - -<p>Thus when I heard that my enemy and the -world believed me dead, when I realised that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -too must probably share in the delusion, I was -glad, for not only would it materially facilitate -my re-entering the Duchy, but it would afford me -an excellent opportunity of judging her real feelings. -I had no doubt but that, if I set to work in -a proper manner and duly preserved my incognito, -I should be able, now that all pretext for quarantine -had disappeared, to secure an interview without -too much difficulty.</p> - -<p>So all my desires hastening towards that goal, -I set myself to become a whole man again with so -much energy that even János was surprised at the -rapidity of my progress.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER II</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">It</span> was towards the middle of December that we -started upon the journey—a little sooner indeed -than my surgeon and mentor approved of, but -his power over me dwindled as my own strength -returned.</p> - -<p>Being chiefly anxious to preserve my incognito, -I hesitated some time before permitting János to -accompany me, his personal appearance unfortunately -being of a kind unlikely to be forgotten -when once seen. But, besides the fact that I -could not find it in me to inflict such pain upon -that excellent fellow, there was an undoubted advantage -to myself in the presence of one upon -whose fidelity and courage I could so absolutely -reckon in an expedition likely to prove of extreme -difficulty and perhaps of peril. Moreover, the man -would have followed me in spite of me. I insisted, -however, upon his shaving off his great pandour -moustaches—a process which though it altered -did not improve his appearance; his aspect, -indeed, being now so fantastically ugly as to -drive me, despite my preoccupation, into inextinguishable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -paroxysms of laughter every time I -unexpectedly got a glimpse of his visage, until -habit wore away the impression.</p> - -<p>As to myself, my long illness had, as I thought, -sufficiently changed me. Besides, the news of my -resurrection was too recently and too vaguely -rumoured in London to have reached, or to be -likely to reach, the Continent for many a long day.</p> - -<p>Under the humble style, therefore, of a Munich -gentleman returning from his travels,—one Theodor -Desberger, with his attendant (now dubbed -Johann), a character which my Austrian-German -fitly enabled me to sustain,—I set sail from London -to Hamburg, and after a favourable sea-passage, -which did much to invigorate me, we landed -in the free city and proceeded towards Budissin -by easy stages; for, despite the ardour of my impatience, -I felt the importance of husbanding my -newly-acquired strength. At Budissin we put up -of course at a different hostelry from that chosen -upon our first venture—one much farther away -from the palace.</p> - -<p>The little town presented now a very different -aspect. Indeed, its gay and cheery bustle, and -the crisp frosty weather which greeted us there, -might have raised inspiriting thoughts. But it -was with a heart very full of anxiety, with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -determination rather to face ill fortune bravely -than the hope of good, that I passed the night. -I got but little sleep, for, having reached my goal, -I scarcely knew how to begin. Nor in the morning -had I arrived at any definite conclusion.</p> - -<p>The risk of presenting myself in person at the -palace after my former fashion was too great to -be entertained for a moment. I had therefore to -content myself with despatching János to make -cautious inquiries as to one Fräulein Pahlen and -her relatives, not forgetting a bulky gentleman he -knew of, recently returned from England.</p> - -<p>I myself, in my plainest suit, and with my cloak -disposed as a muffler, partly concealing my face, -set forth upon my side to gather what crumbs of -information I might.</p> - -<p>At the very outset I had a most singular meeting. -Traversing the little town in the brisk morning air -under a dome of palest blue, I naturally directed -my steps towards the castle, seated on its terrace -and towering above the citizens’ brown roofs.</p> - -<p>I had taken a somewhat circuitous route to -avoid passing in front of the main guard, and -found myself presently in a quiet street, one side -of which was bound by the castle garden walls, -and the other—that upon which I walked—by -a row of private houses seemingly of some importance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -Now, as I walked, engaged in gazing -upwards at the long row of escutcheoned windows -which I could just see above the wall, and foolishly -wondering through which of them my cruel -little wife might be wont to look forth into the -outer world, I nearly collided with a woman who -was hurrying out of one of the houses.</p> - -<p>As I drew back to recover myself, and to apologise, -something in the dark figure struck me with -poignant reminiscence. The next instant, as she -would have passed me, I caught her by the -shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Anna!” I cried wildly, “God be thanked, -Anna!” For upon this very first morning of my -quest Heaven had brought me face to face with -no less a person than Ottilie’s old nurse.</p> - -<p>The recognition on her side was almost simultaneous. -No sooner had the muffling cloak fallen -from my mouth, than the dull and rather surly -countenance that she had turned upon me became -convulsed by the most extraordinary emotion. -She gave a stifled cry. Then she clapped her -hands together, pressed them clasped against her -cheek, and stared at me with piercing intensity, -crying again and again:</p> - -<p>“God in heaven—you! God in heaven—you!” -The black eyes were as hard to read as those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -of a shepherd’s dog, who fixes with the same -earnest look the master he loves or the enemy -he suspects. And as we stood thus, the space of -a few seconds, my mind misgave me as to whether -I had not already jeopardised all my prospects by -this impulsive disclosure. It was evident that the -woman had heard the story of my death, which in -this hostile place was my chief security. But the -die was cast, and the chance of information was -too precious not to be seized even at greater risks. -I laid hold of her cloak, then passionately grasped -her hands. “Oh, Anna!” I cried again, and the -bare thought that I was once more so near the -beloved of my heart brought in my weakness -the heat of tears to my eyes. “Where is she? -Where is my wife? What does she? Anna, I -must see her. My life is in danger in this place; -they have tried to kill me because I love her, but -I had rather risk death again a thousand times -than give her up. Take me to her, Anna!”</p> - -<p>The woman had never ceased regarding me -with the same enigmatic earnestness; all at once -her eyes lightened, she looked from side to side -with the cautiousness of some animal conscious -of danger, then wrenched her hands out of mine:</p> - -<p>“Follow me, sir,” she said in a whisper, so -urgent in its apprehension as to strike a colder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -chill into my veins than the wildest scream could -have done. Without another glance at me she -started off in front, and I as hastily followed, -almost mechanically flinging my cloak once more -across my mouth as I moved on.</p> - -<p>Whither was she leading me? Into the hands -of my enemies, whoever they were?—she had -always, I had thought, hated me—or into the -arms of my wife?</p> - -<p>She turned away from the palace, down a bye-street, -and then took another turn which brought -us into a poor alley where the houses became -almost cottages, and where the gutters ran among -the cobbles with liquid filth.</p> - -<p>My wild hope gave place to sinister foreboding; -and as I plodded carefully after her unwavering -figure, I loosened the hilt of my sword in its scabbard, -and settled the folds of my cloak around my -left arm so that at a pinch I might doff it and use -it for defence.</p> - -<p>Suddenly my guide halted for a second, looked -at me over her shoulder, and disappeared down -some steps into the open door of a mean little -shop. I entered after her, at once disappointed in -all my expectations and reassured by the humble -vulgarity of the place. Anna, as I had ever -known her, was chary of speech. Even, as stooping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -I made my way into the low, gloomy, and -evil-smelling narrow room, I saw her imperiously -motion an ugly sallow young woman out of her -presence; and, still in silence, I watched her, wondering, -as she made fast the doors and bent her -dark face to listen if all were still. Then she -produced from a counter, paper, ink, and pen, -and spreading them out turned to me with a single -word: “Write.”</p> - -<p>So small was the result of all these preliminaries.</p> - -<p>“You mean,” said I, “that if I write to your -mistress, you will convey the letter? Alas! I -have written before and she would not even receive -my writing. Oh! can you not get me -speech of her? I conjure you by the love you -bear her, let me see her but for a few minutes.”</p> - -<p>The woman fixed me for a second with a -startled wondering eye, opened her mouth as if -to speak, but immediately clapped her hand to it -as if to restrain the words. Then, with a passion -of entreaty that it was impossible to withstand, -she pointed to the paper and cried once more, -“Write.”</p> - -<p>And so I seemed ever destined to communicate -with my wife from strange places and by strange -messengers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p> - -<p>With a trembling hand and a brain in a whirl -I wrote—I hardly know what: a wild, passionate, -reproachful appeal, setting forth in incoherent -words all I had done and suffered, all my -desire, all my faithful love. When I looked up -at length I found the black eyes still watching -me with the same inscrutable fierceness. I was -going to trust my life and its hopes to this woman, -and for a moment I hesitated. But at the same -instant there was some noise without, and snatching -the letter unfinished from before me, she -thrust it into her bosom, folded her cloak across -it, and stooping close to me demanded in her -breathless undertone:</p> - -<p>“Where do you live?”</p> - -<p>Mechanically I told her, adding: “Ask for -M. Desberger.”</p> - -<p>She nodded with swift comprehension, unbolted -the barred front door of the little shop, and drew -me hastily out by the back, along a close, flagged -passage, leaving an irate customer hammering and -clamouring for admittance.</p> - -<p>We proceeded through a small yard into another -alley, and here she halted a second, still detaining -me by my cloak.</p> - -<p>“Go home,” she said then; “keep close. There -is danger—danger. You will hear.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> - -<p>She suddenly caught my hand, kissed it, and -was gone. I stood awhile bewildered, astonished, -staring, hardly able to grasp the meaning -of what had passed, for this last scene in the -drama of my life had been acted hurriedly and -was full of mysterious significance. Then, unobtrusively, -I sought the shelter of my own inn, -resolving to obey to the letter the injunctions laid -upon me; but fate had willed it otherwise.</p> - -<p>Determined not to interfere with the course of -fortune by any least indocility, I retired into the -seclusion of my chambers, and pretexting a slight -indisposition, to rouse no undue suspicion by an -air of mystery, gave orders for my dinner to be -served there.</p> - -<p>A stout red-cheeked wench with rough bare -arms had just, grinning, clattered the first greasy -dish before me, when I heard János’s foot upon -the stairs. I had learnt to know the sound of -his step pretty well in my recent weeks of sickness, -but I had not been wont to hear it come -so laggingly, and the fact that it halted altogether -outside the door for a second or two, as if its -owner hesitated to enter, filled me with such a -furious impatience that I got up and flung it -open to wrest his news from him. Not even -when he had held up my poor great-uncle in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -arms to let him draw his last breath on earth, had -I seen the fellow wear a countenance of such discomposure.</p> - -<p>“In Heaven’s name, János,” cried I, and the -sturdy house-wench turned and stared at him -more agoggle and agrin than before.</p> - -<p>“Get out of that, you ——” cried my servitor, -snapping at her with such sourness, and so forgetful -of the decorum he usually displayed in my -presence, that it was clear he was mightily moved.</p> - -<p>She fled as if some savage old watch-dog had -nipped at her heel, and we were alone.</p> - -<p>I had returned from my own exploration full of -hope, and at the same time of wonder, so that I -was at once ill and well prepared for any tidings, -however extraordinary. But János’s tidings seemed -difficult of telling.</p> - -<p>“Let us go home, honoured sir” he stammered -again and again, surveying me with a compassion -and an anxiety he had not vouchsafed upon me -at the worst of my illness. I had to drag the -words from him piecemeal, as the torturer forces -out the unwilling confession.</p> - -<p>Yes, he had news—bad news. This was no place -for me. It was not wholesome for us here. Let us -return to Tollendhal, or Vienna, or even England. -Let us start before further mischief overtook us.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> - -<p>I believe I fell upon him at last and shook him. -What had he heard. What had he heard of her? -I vowed he was driving me mad, vowed that if he -did not instantly tell me all I would throw caution -to the wind and go to the palace and demand -my wife in person, were it of the Duke himself. -This threat extorted at length the terrible thing -that even the rough old soldier feared to utter.</p> - -<p>“The lady,” he stammered, “the lady can no -longer be spoken of as your honour’s wife. She -is married.”</p> - -<p>“Married!” I cried. “What do you mean, -you scoundrel? No longer my wife! Married! -You are raving—this is stark lunacy.”</p> - -<p>He shook his grey head under the shower of my -fury.</p> - -<p>“Married. Does your honour forget that they -think here that they have at last succeeded in -killing you?”</p> - -<p>I looked at him aghast, unwilling to admit the -awful illumination that flashed upon my mind. -He, believing me still incredulous, proceeded:</p> - -<p>“Married she is. Fräulein Pahlen, the lady-in-waiting,—Fräulein -Pahlen, as your honour bade -me call her, and as it seems she called herself -until ...” and then with a significant emphasis, -“until six weeks ago.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p> - -<p>“And who is the man?” said I. The words -sounded in my ears as if some one else had spoken, -but I believe I was astoundingly calm.</p> - -<p>Misled no doubt by this appearance of composure, -János seemed to take more confidence, and -continued in easier tones, while I held myself still -to listen.</p> - -<p>“It is the Court physician, one privy counsellor -Lothner. I was shown his house, a big one in the -Schloss Graben, number ten, opposite the palace -walls. Ay, yes, they were married six weeks ago, -and the Duke was present at the marriage ... -and the Princess too! They say it was made -up by their wishes. Oh! honoured sir, let us -hence. You are well quit of it all; this is a bad -place!”</p> - -<p>Yet I stood without moving. Chasm after -chasm, horror after horror, seemed to be opening -before my mind; chasms so black that I scarce -ventured to look into their depths; horrors so unspeakable -that I could put no word-shape to them. -After Ottilie’s messenger had failed to induce me -to give up my rights, had come the attempts upon -my life, then the duel. The mysterious stranger -who had sought to slay me with such rancorous -hate, and had called “<i>Ottilie</i>” into my dying ears, -had returned to claim his bride, and they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -wedded in their blood-guilt. Well might the nurse -cry and repeat the cry of “God in heaven! God -in heaven!”</p> - -<p>What new ambush would they now contrive?</p> - -<p>“Your honour——” said János, and he put his -hand respectfully upon my sleeve. I caught sight -of his frightened face and burst into a fit of rasping -laughter.</p> - -<p>“Look at your master, János, and see the greatest -fool in Christendom! The fool of the play, -that is tricked and mocked and beaten from one -act to another. Tricked into marrying a serving-maid -instead of a princess; tricked into loving her -when he should have repudiated her with scorn; -abandoned by her when he could no longer live -without her; mocked when he sought his wife; -driven away by lackeys; stabbed by a murdering -hound, a skulking thief in the night!... But -the last act is only about to begin—every one has -had his laugh at the fool, but we shall see, János, -we shall see! He laughs best who laughs last, -they say. Ten, Schloss Graben, did you say?”</p> - -<p>I caught my cloak. I think the faithful fellow -actually laid hands upon me to arrest me, but -I broke from him as if his clasp had been a -straw.</p> - -<p>“I’ll drive my sword,” I remember saying, “into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -the first man who dares come between me and my -purpose.”</p> - -<p>And indeed as I fled along the street, scarce -knowing what way I took, yet going as straight -as a die to my goal, I had no other thought but -how clean I would run my blade through the -clumsy lumbering brute who deemed he had so -well widowed my wife. I had the strength of ten -men in me.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER III</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">When</span> I reached the Schloss Graben I stood a -moment to reconnoitre, and found myself in the -same still, cobble-paved road where I had met -Anna a few hours before. On my left rose the -high garden-walls overtopped by a web of bare interlacing -branches, and over that again the palace -windows and its mansard roof; on my right the -row of silent brown or red stone houses, well-to-do -and snugly private, with beaten iron bars to the -low windows and great scallop shells over the -doors. This was the house down the stone steps -of which my wife’s servant had come this morning, -and this was number ten. Of course! How clear -it was all becoming to me! I dashed the sweat -from my brow, for I had come like a lamplighter. -Then I tramped up the three steps and again -halted a second. How quiet the house was!</p> - -<p>But I should soon put some bustle into it, I said -to myself, and smiled. I plied the knocker till the -sleeping echoes awoke, and I hung on the iron -rope of the bell till the shrill protest of the jingling -peal rang out into the street. There came other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -sounds from within as of a flutter in a dovecot. -Doors were opened and shut precipitately. A -window was thrown back above my head; there -was a vision of a white-capped face thrust forward -and withdrawn; and, indeed, like rabbits from a -warren, most, I believe, of the idle servants in the -street were popping out to see whence could proceed -such unholy clangour.</p> - -<p>The door before me was at length cautiously and -slowly opened, and through the aperture the frightened, -rose-red face of a maid looked out at me.</p> - -<p>I saw that I had been incautious, and therefore -addressed her with a suave mock courtesy. Indeed, -now that the actual moment had come I felt -stealing over me a very deadly calm.</p> - -<p>“Forgive me,” said I, “my wench, for disturbing -you thus rudely. I see I have alarmed you. -These are, however, but old soldiers’ ways, which -I trust your good mistress will pardon to an old -friend. Your mistress is, if I mistake not, now -the doctor’s lady. But when I knew her she was -Fräulein Ottilie Pahlen.”</p> - -<p>The girl’s mouth had, during this long speech, -which in my new mood came glibly enough to my -lips, become broadened into a grin. There are -very few girls in the Empire, I have been told, that -will not feel mollified towards a soldier.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Is your mistress within?” I pursued.</p> - -<p>She dropped a curtsey, and after a comprehensive -glance over my person threw open the door. -Would the gentleman walk in? She brought me -through a brick-paved hall into a long low oak-panelled -room, all dark and yet all shining with -polish. It was very hot from a high china stove.</p> - -<p>“What visitor shall I announce to the gracious -lady?” she asked, sidling towards me, and thrusting -her apple face as forward as she dared.</p> - -<p>“I am so old a friend, in fact, I may say so -near a connection, that I should like to give your -gracious lady a pleasant surprise,” said I; “I will -not therefore give my name.” As a propitiatory -after-thought, I pinched the hard red cheek and -dropped a coin into her apron pocket. I tried to -make my smile very sweet, but it felt stiff upon -my lips. She, however, saw nought amiss, and -pattered out well content.</p> - -<p>Then followed a few minutes’ waiting; all had -grown still again around me. Through the deep -recessed windows I looked forth into a little courtyard -with one bare tree. This, then, was the home -Ottilie had chosen instead of an English estate, -instead of Tollendhal, instead of all I could offer -her in courtly Vienna or great London! How she -must love this man! Or was it only the plebeian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -instinct reasserting itself in spite of all?... The -Court doctor’s lady!</p> - -<p>I heard a footfall on the bare-boarded stair, and -with a smile that was this time the natural expression -of the complicated bitterness of my soul, I -moved a few steps so as to place myself in the -best light.</p> - -<p>My wife was, perhaps, still in ignorance of my -escape from death. Anna had not yet carried her -grievous news of the failure of their endeavours. -Indeed, this was evident from the general placidity -of the household, as well as the staid regularity of -the approaching steps. To witness her joy at the -discovery was sufficient revenge for the moment. -After that the reckoning would be with—well, -with my successor.</p> - -<p>Such was the state of my thoughts at the crucial -moment of my strange story.</p> - -<p>I have said that I was calm, but during the little -pause that took place between the cessation of the -footsteps and the turning of the lock I could hear -the beating of my own heart like the measured -roar of a drum in battle.</p> - -<p>Then was the door opened, and before me stood—-not -Ottilie, who had been my Ottilie, but the -other Ottilie, the Princess! She was advancing -upon me with the old well-remembered gracious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -smile, when all at once she halted with much the -same terror-stricken look with which Anna earlier -in the day had recognised me, and clasped her -hands, crying:</p> - -<p>“God be merciful to us, M. de Jennico!” and -seemed the next instant ready to burst into tears.</p> - -<p>In the first confusion of my thoughts, in the -rage created by this eternal <i>quid pro quo</i>—that I -should ever find the lady-in-waiting when I wanted -the Princess, and the Princess when I wanted the -lady-in-waiting,—I might have been inclined to -think that Anna had after all spread her tidings, -and that my wife’s former mistress had come to her -aid at this awkward moment; but the surprise -and consternation on this woman’s countenance -were too genuine to have been counterfeit.</p> - -<p>Whatever reason brought the Princess here I -was in no humour to inquire.</p> - -<p>“I came to see my wife, Madam,” said I, “and -not to presume upon your Highness’s condescension. -I am determined to see my wife,” I insisted; -“that Ottilie Pahlen, who was your maid of honour, -and lived with me as my wife for a month, as -your Highness well knows, and who was in such -haste to wed this Court doctor of yours at the first -rumour of her husband’s death.”</p> - -<p>I spoke in a very uncourtier-like rage. But she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -whom I addressed showed neither anger nor astonishment, -but sank into the nearest chair, a mere -heap of soft distressed womanhood, wringing her -plump dimpled hands, while tears of extraordinary -size suffused her eyes and overflowed upon her -cheeks.</p> - -<p>At sight of this my heat fell away; I threw myself -on my knees beside her, and, all forgetful of -the distance between us, took one of her hands in -mine and poured forth an appeal.</p> - -<p>“You were always kind to me; be kind now. I -must see my wife. I have been cruelly treated; I -am surrounded with enemies; be you my friend!”</p> - -<p>She leant forward and looked at me earnestly -with swimming eyes.</p> - -<p>“Is it possible,” she exclaimed—“is it possible, -M. de Jennico, that you have not found out yet?... -that you do not suspect?...”</p> - -<p>Even as she spoke, and while I knelt looking -up at her, the scales fell from my eyes. I needed -no further word. I knew. How was it possible, -indeed, that I should not have known before? -I saw as in a flash that this comely burgher -woman was not, had never been, never could -have been, the Princess. I saw that the hand I -still unconsciously held bore marks of household -toil, that on the third finger glittered a new wedding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -ring. Then a thousand memories rushed -into my mind, a thousand confirmatory details. -Oh, blind—blind—blind that I had been—fool, -and worse than fool! The mystery of my -wife’s mocking smile; the secret that had so often -hung unspoken on her lips; her careless pretty -ways; the depth of her injured pride; and then -the manner in which she had been guarded from -me, the force employed against me, the secret -diplomatic attempts to free her, followed, on their -failure, by the relentless determination to do away -with me altogether! Before my reeling brain it -all rose into towering conviction—a joy, a sorrow, -both too keen for humanity to bear, seized upon -my weakened frame. I heard as if in the far distance -the words the woman near me was saying:</p> - -<p>“It all began by a freak of her Highness, ...” -and with the echo of them whirling as it were in -a mad dance through my brain to the sound of -thundering cataracts, a whirlpool of flame spreading -before my eyes, I fell with a crash, as it -seemed, into a yawning black abyss.</p> - -<p>When I again came to myself the cold air was -blowing in upon me through the open casement, -and I was stretched full length on a hard floor, -in what seemed a perfect deluge of the very -strongest vinegar I have ever smelt. At one side<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -of me knelt my hostess, her healthy face blanched -almost beyond recognition. On the other, between -my wandering gaze and the window, swam the -visage of the maid, eyes and mouth as round as -horror could make them, but with cheeks the -ruddiness of which, it seemed, no emotion could -mitigate.</p> - -<p>Both my kind attendants gave a cry as I opened -my eyes.</p> - -<p>“He is recovering, Trude,” said Madam Lothner -(to call her now by her proper name).</p> - -<p>“Ah! gracious lady,” answered the wench in -an unctuous tone of importance; “his face is -still as red as the beet I was pickling when I -heard you scream—would God the master were -here to bleed him. Shall I send into the town to -seek him?”</p> - -<p>“God forbid!” cried her mistress, in a hasty -and peremptory tone. “No, I tell you, Trude, he -is recovering, and I have not been a doctor’s wife -these six weeks for nothing. The flush is fading -even as I look at him. See thee here, fetch me -some of the cordial water.”</p> - -<p>I do not know how far her six weeks’ association -with the medical luminary, her husband, had -profited Madam Lothner. I have since been told -that her administration of cordial, immediately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -upon such a blood stroke to the head as mine, -ought really to have finished me off. But as it -happened it did me a vast deal of good, and I -was soon able to shake off the giddiness, the -sickness, and the general confusion of my system.</p> - -<p>With recovered wits it gradually became apparent -to me that while Madam Lothner continued -to ply me with every assistance she could think -of, regarding me with eyes in which shone most -kindly and womanly benevolence, her chief anxiety -nevertheless was to get rid of me with all possible -despatch.</p> - -<p>But I was not likely to give up such an opportunity. -The chaos in my mind consequent upon -the unexpected revelation, and its disastrous physical -effect, was such as to render me no very coherent -inquisitor. Nevertheless, the determination -to learn all that this woman could tell me about -my wife rose predominant above the seething of -my thoughts.</p> - -<p>Ottilie, my wife, was Ottilie the Princess after -all! I had felt the truth before it had been told -me. But whilst they removed an agonising supposition, -these struck me nevertheless as strange -unhomely tidings which opened fresh difficulties -in my path—difficulties the full import of which -were every second more strongly borne upon me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -Ottilie the Princess!... Everything was changed, -and the relentless attitude of the Princess bore a -very different aspect to the mere resentment of -the injured wife. When my letters had been -flung back in my face, when I had been kidnapped -and expelled the country, it had been -then by her orders. She had sent to demand -the divorce. Who had set the bravo on my -track? By whose wish had my life been so -basely, so persistently, attempted? By hers—Ottilie, -the Princess? A Princess who had repented -of her freak, whose pride, whose reputation, -had suffered from the stigma of an unequal -match.</p> - -<p>The man whose sword had twice passed through -my body had called out, “Ha! Ottilie!” Who -dare call on a Princess thus save her kinsman or—her -lover?</p> - -<p>I felt the blood surge through me again, but -this time in my anger it brought a sense of -courage and strength. I interrupted Madam -Lothner as, with a joyful exclamation that I -was now quite restored, she was about to issue -an order for the summary fetching of a hired -coach.</p> - -<p>“Let your maid go,” said I authoritatively, “but -not for a coach. I have yet much to say to you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> - -<p>I was without pity for the distress this demand -occasioned, deaf to the hurried whisper:</p> - -<p>“For pity’s sake, go now that you can. You are -in danger here. Think of yourself, if you will not -think of me!”</p> - -<p>“I can think of but one person,” said I harshly. -“I have come a thousand miles to learn things -which I know you can tell me, and here I remain -until I have heard them. Any delay on your -side will only prolong the danger, since danger -there be.”</p> - -<p>She looked up in tearful pleading, met my obstinate -gaze, and instantly submitted—a woman born -to be ruled.</p> - -<p>“Go, Trude,” she said faintly, “and warn me if -you see your master coming. What will she think -of me?” sighed the poor lady as the door closed -upon an awe-struck but evidently suspicious Trude. -“But no matter, better that just now than the -truth. Now, sir, for God’s sake, what is it you -would have of me?”</p> - -<p>“Let me go back,” said I, “to the beginning. -When I married ... my wife at Tollendhal, she -was then, for a freak as you say, acting the lady-in-waiting, -while you assumed her rôle of Princess?”</p> - -<p>“It is so,” said Madam Lothner, “but I never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -knew till the deed was accomplished to what length -her Highness had chosen to push her folly. I -could not then attempt to interfere or advise, still -less could I be the person to send tidings to the -Court.”</p> - -<p>“So?” said I, as she paused.</p> - -<p>“So,” said she, “in great fear and trembling, I -deemed it best to obey her Highness’s strict command, -and await events at the Castle of Schreckendorf, -still in my assumed part.”</p> - -<p>“But when my wife returned to you,” I said, -and my voice shook, “returned to you in a peasant’s -cart,—oh, I know all about it, Madam, I -know that I drove her forth through the most -insensate pride that ever lost soul its paradise,—when -she returned, the truth must have already -been known?”</p> - -<p>“Ach, yes,” murmured the sentimental Saxon, -her eyes watering with very sympathy at the sight -of my bitter self-reproach. “Yes, it was because -of rumours which had already reached the residence -(from your friends in England, I believe), -that his Serene Highness the Duke sent in such -haste to recall us. He would not come himself -for fear of giving weight to the scandal. But -it was her Highness who chose to confirm the -report.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> - -<p>“How?” cried I eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Why, sir,” answered the doctor’s lady, flowing -on not unwillingly in her soft guttural, though -visibly perturbed nevertheless, and now and again -anxiously alive to any sound without—“why, sir, -her Highness having returned to Schreckendorf -before the arrival of the ladies and gentlemen -from Lausitz, and being, it seemed, determined”—here -she hesitated and glanced at me timidly—“determined -not to return to Tollendhal ever again, -her Highness might easily, had she wished, have -denied the whole story. And indeed,” continued -the speaker with a shrewdness I would not have -given her credit for, “had she so behaved it -would have best pleased her relations. But she -was not so made.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, no indeed,” said I, “her pride would not -stoop to that.”</p> - -<p>“You are right,” said Madam Lothner, with a -sigh, “she is very proud. She was calm and -seemed to have quite made up her mind. ’I will -give no explanation to any one,’ she said to me, -’and I recognise in no one the right to question -me. But my father shall know that I am married, -and that I am separated from my husband for ever. -I am not the first woman of my rank on whom -such a fate has fallen.’ That was her attitude.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> - -<p>And here the good creature broke forth as if in -spite of herself with passionate expostulation.</p> - -<p>“Ah, M. de Jennico, but she suffered! Oh, if -you would atone, leave her now, leave her at least -in peace! You have brought enough sorrow already -into her life. Ach! I do not know how it -has been between you; but now that she thinks -you dead, for God’s sake let it be!”</p> - -<p>“By Heaven, Madam,” cried I, half mad, I believe, -between pain, remorse, and fury, “these are -strange counsels! Do you forget that we are man -and wife, and this by her own doing? But truly -I need not be surprised, for you do not hesitate -before crime at the Court of Lausitz, and if murder -be so lightly condoned, sure it is that bigamy -must seem a very peccadillo.”</p> - -<p>Madam Lothner stared at me with startled eyes -and dropping jaw.</p> - -<p>“Murder,” she whispered, “M. de Jennico! -what terrible thing do you say?”</p> - -<p>Then she put her hand to her head, ejaculating: -“True, it was the Margrave himself who brought -us news of your death on his return from England. -It was in the English papers. I feared I know -not what, but this—this—God save us!”</p> - -<p>I looked at her in fresh bewilderment. She -was as one seized by overwhelming terror. I felt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -that her emotion had its origin in causes still -unknown to me.</p> - -<p>“And who is the Margrave?” I cried quickly.</p> - -<p>She lowered her voice to the barest breath of -sound, and glanced fearfully over her shoulder as -if afraid of eavesdroppers even in this retired -room.</p> - -<p>“Prince Eugen, as they call him,” she said, -“one of her Highness’s cousins. He has, I do not -quite know how, hopes of sovereignty in Poland, -and they were to have been married: it was her -father’s wish, and it is so still.”</p> - -<p>I sprang up with an imprecation, but the lady -almost flung herself upon me, and clapped her -hand over my mouth.</p> - -<p>“In the name of God,” she said, “be still, or -you will ruin us! My husband is his most devoted -adherent. In this house he rules, and we bow to -the earth before him.”</p> - -<p>I sank back into my seat, docile, in spite of myself, -impressed by the strength of her fear. New -trains of revelations crowded upon me. Eugen of -Liegnitz-Rothenburg—Rothenburg—Ville-Rouge—I -saw it all!</p> - -<p>She went on, bringing her mouth close to my -ear:</p> - -<p>“The Princess hated him, and indeed he has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -grown into a strange and terrifying man, so oddly -impulsive, cruel, wilful, vindictive. He always -professed to love the Princess, but I cannot but -think that it was the love of taming—he would -dearly love to break her, just as he loves to -break the proudest-spirited horse. His grey eye -makes me grow cold. As I said, from a child -she hated him, and it was for that—having seen -one whom she thought she could love....” Here -she paused, and glanced at me, and hesitated.</p> - -<p>It was for that. I remembered. She had told -me of the unhappy fate that threatened “the -Princess” that evening when we met under the -fir-trees to decide upon my crazy match, and when, -as I had deemed, she had fooled me to the top of -my bent. She had spoken in tones of scathing -contempt and hatred of some cavalier. And now? -Suddenly gripped by the old devil of doubt and -jealousy, I cried out, “And now, after all, the fate -of being wedded to an obscure gentleman seems -to her more dreadful than that of sharing her -place with her cousin, and the peculiar qualities -of the hated relative have been very usefully employed -in ridding her of the inconvenient husband? -Oh, Madam, of course you know your Court of -Lausitz, and I think I begin to see your drift: -you think, in your amiability, that it would be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -preferable to see your mistress bigamously united, -than that she should legitimise her position by yet -another and more successful attempt at assassination.”</p> - -<p>“I fail to understand you, sir,” drawing back -from me, nevertheless, with a glance of mistrust -and indignation.</p> - -<p>“I will be plain,” said I: “when the Princess, -who is my wife, left me,—I will own I bear some -blame, but then I had been strangely played with,—she -had doubtless already begun to repent what -you call her freak. When I followed her and -implored her forgiveness,—you yourself know all -about it, Madam, for you must have acted under -her orders,—she flung back my letters, through -your agency, with a contemptuous denial of any -knowledge of such a person as M. de Jennico. -When I wrote to her, her whom I believed to -bear your name, a pleading, abject letter, for -I was still but a poor loving fool, her only -answer was to have me seized and driven from -the country like a criminal. Later on, when I -refused to be a party to her petition for divorce, -she thought, no doubt, she had given me chances -enough, and this time she deputed the noble -bully, her cousin, to manage the matter in his -own fashion. My life was attempted five times,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -Madam. And when it all failed,—your Prince -Eugen, you tell me, he was in England, and there -was a certain great bulky Chevalier de Ville-Rouge, -who particularly sought my acquaintance—’tis -he, is it not?—your Prince Eugen honoured -me by seeking a duello, and by running his -august sword through my common body, and that -more often, be it said, than custom sanctions in -honourable encounters. I was given for dead. -No wonder! It seems to be the sport of hell to -keep me alive. I can scarce think it is the will -of Heaven.”</p> - -<p>Madam Lothner had followed my tirade with -what appeared the most conflicting sentiments: -blank astonishment, horror, indignation. It was -the last, however, that predominated. Her countenance -became suffused with crimson; her blue -eyes flashed a fire I had not deemed them capable -of harbouring; she forgot the precautions she herself -had so strenuously enjoined.</p> - -<p>“And do you dare, sir,” cried she, “accuse my -mistress of these things—you, whom she loved? -You knew her as your wife for four weeks, and -yet you know her so little as to believe her plotting -your death! Those letters, sir, you speak of, -she never received, nor did I, nor did she nor I -ever hear of your presence in this land. ’Tis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -true that after you had left,—for <i>you</i> left her -first, remember,—after well-nigh a year without -tidings of you, she did herself send to you to -request the annulment of the marriage. It was -<i>to free you</i> because she believed you repented of it, -and she felt she had entrapped you into it. And -when, sir, you refused, she had hope again in her -heart, for she loved you. And she suffered persecution -on your account, and was kept and watched -like a state prisoner—she that had always lived -for the free air, and for her own way. They were -cruel to her, and put dreadful pressure upon her -that she should make her appeal alone to the -Pope. But she held firm, and bore it all in silence, -and lived surrounded by spies, her old friends and -old servants banished from her sight, until the -news came that you were dead. Then ... ah, -then, she mourned as never a woman mourned -yet for her first and only love! As to marriage—what -dreadful things have you been saying? -Her Highness will never marry again. She will -be faithful as long as she lives to you, whom she -believes dead. And God forbid it should be otherwise, -for Prince Eugen would wed her from no -love, I believe, but solely to punish her for resisting -him so long, to break her to his will at last, -and triumph over her. Oh, no, she would never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -wed again! You must believe me, for I have been -with her through it all, and though she would -mock me and laugh at me once, she turned to -me afterwards as to her only friend——Get up, -M. de Jennico, get up! Ach Gott! what a coil -this is! My good sir, get up; think if the doctor -were to come in! Ach Gott! what is that you -say? Nay, I have been a fool, and this is the -worst of all. My poor friend, there is no room for -happiness here!”</p> - -<p>For I had fallen at her feet again, and was -covering her hand with kisses, blessing her with -tears, I believe, for the happiness of this moment.</p> - -<p>She ended, good soul, by weeping with me, or -rather, over the pity of the joy that was doomed, -as she thought, to such brief duration.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you are mad, you are mad!” she said, as -I poured forth I know not what extravagant plans. -Ottilie loved me, cried I in the depths of my exultant -soul: what could be difficult now? “You -are mad! Have you not yet learned your lesson? -Do you not understand that they will never, <i>never</i> -let you have her? Go back to your home, sir, -and if you love her never let her know you are -still alive, for if they heard it here, God knows -what she would be put to bear; and if she knew -they had tried to murder you, it would kill her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -I tell you, sir, a Court is a dreadful place, and -Prince Eugen, you know what he is, and his -Serene Highness himself, he is hard as the stones -of the street. You have seen what they have -done—no law can reach them! They will not -fail again. And if a second scandal——” she -paused, hesitated, shuddered, then bending over -to me she whispered, half inarticulately, “if a -second scandal came to pass, who knows what -forfeit she might not have to pay!”</p> - -<p>But I rose, clasped her two hands, and looked into -her eyes with all the bold joy that filled my heart.</p> - -<p>“My kind friend,” I said, “you cannot frighten -me now. Keep you but our secret, and you will -yet see your mistress happy.” I wrung her hands, -and hurried to the door, as eager now to be gone -as I had been to enter. I must act, and act at -once, and there was much to do.</p> - -<p>She followed me, lamenting and entreating, to -the steps, where stood faithful Trude, with garments -blown about in the cold wind. But, as I -turned to take a last farewell, my hostess caught -me by the sleeve.</p> - -<p>“Keep close,” she said, “keep close; and if you -are hurt, if you are ill——” she hesitated a second, -then leaned forward and breathed into my ear, -“do not send for the Court doctor.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER IV</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">I rushed</span> out into the street, treading as if on -air, my cloak floating behind me, my head thrown -back, all warnings unheeded in the first overpowering -tide of this joy which had come upon me at the -darkest hour of all.</p> - -<p>I had told myself that I must act, and act at -once. But till I had had a moment’s breathing -time to realise the extraordinary revelations by -which the whole face of the past and of the -future was changed to me, I could form no -coherent thought, much less could I form plans.</p> - -<p>I wanted space for this—space and solitude. -And so I hurried along as I have described, -looking neither to the right nor to the left, when -I was seized upon from behind, and by no means -gentle hands brought me first to a standstill, and -next threw the folds of my cloak around me in -such a fashion as once more to cover my face.</p> - -<p>“Are you mad?” said János, with a fiercer -display of anger than I had ever known him -show to me, though he had marshalled me pretty -rigidly through my illness. “I have been following<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> -you these five minutes, and all the town -stares at your honour. ’Tis lucky you took a side -turning just now or you would have been straight -into the great place, perhaps into the main guard. -If you want to look for death, you can go to the -wars like my old master, but ’tis an ill thing to find -it in the assassin’s blade, as I thought you had -learned by now. Do you forget,” continued János, -scolding more vehemently, “that they are all -leagued against you in this country? Do you forget -how they packed you out of the land last year, -and warned you never to return? ’Tis very well -to risk one’s life, but ’tis ill to throw it away.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, János, true soul,” said I, as soon as I could -get air to speak with, for his grasp upon the folds of -my cloak was like an iron clamp, “all is changed, -all is explained. You saw me last the most miserable -of men: you see me now the happiest!”</p> - -<p>We had paused in a deserted alley leading into -the gardens on the ramparts. As I looked round -I saw that the sky had grown darkly overcast, and -by János’s pinched face, as well as by the bowing -and bending of the trees, that the wind had risen -strong and cold. To me it might have been the -softest breeze of spring. I drew the man over to a -bench all frosted already by tiny flakes which fell -persistently, yet sparsely, and there I told him my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -tale of joy. He listened, blinking and grinning. -At length when it was duly borne in upon him that -the wife I was seeking was really and actually the -Princess of the land, he clasped his hands and -cried with a certain savage enthusiasm:</p> - -<p>“Oh, that my old master had lived to see the -day!” But the next instant the bristling difficulties -of the situation began to oppress his aged -heart. He pondered with a falling face.</p> - -<p>“Then your honour is in even greater danger -than I had thought,” said he, “and every second -he passes in this town of cut-throats adds to the -risk.”</p> - -<p>“Even so,” said I, clapping him on the shoulders, -my spirits rising higher, it seemed, with every fresh -attempt to depress them,—“Even so, my good -fellow; and therefore since my wife I mean to -have, and since I mean to live to be happy with -her, what say you to our carrying her off this very -night?”</p> - -<p>He made no outcry: he knew the breed (he -himself had said it) too well. As you may see -a dog watch his master’s signal to dash after -the prey, wagging his tail faintly the while, so -the fellow turned and fixed me.</p> - -<p>“And how will your honour do it?” said he -without a protest.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p> - -<p>“How?” said I, and laughed aloud; “by my -soul I know not! I know nothing yet, but we will -home to the inn and deliberate. There is nought -so difficult but love will find the way, and Romeos -will scale walls to reach their Juliets so long as -this old world lasts.”</p> - -<p>I rose as I spoke, and so did János, shaking the -snow from his bent shoulders.</p> - -<p>“I know nothing of the gentlemen your honour -speaks of, nor of the ladies, but my old master, -your honour’s uncle, did things in his days.... -God forgive me that I should remember them -against a holy soul in heaven! There was a time -when he kept a whole siege (it was before Reichenberg -in ’59)—a whole siege waiting, ordered a cessation -of fire for a night, that he might visit some -lady in the town. He was the general of the besieging -army, and he could order as he pleased. By -Saint Stephen, he got into the town somehow ... -and I with him ... and next morning we got out -again! No one knew where we had been but -himself, and myself, and herself—he, he!—and -before midday we had that town.”</p> - -<p>“Fie, fie, János,” said I, “these are sad tales of -a field-marshal; let us hope my good aunt never -heard them.”</p> - -<p>“Her Excellency,” said János, and crossed -himself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> “would -have gloried in the deed. But, your -honour, we have the heavens against us to-night; -I have not seen a sky look blacker, even in England, -since the great storm at Tollendhal.... -Ah, your honour remembers when.”</p> - -<p>“All the better,” said I, as we turned the corner; -“a stormy night is the best of nights for a bold -deed.”</p> - -<p>And I thought within myself: “I lost her in the -storm; in the storm shall I find her again.” Thus -does a glad heart frame his own omen.</p> - -<p>It was all very fine to talk of carrying off my -wife in such fashion; but when, seated together -near the fire in my room, talking in whispers so -that not even the great stove door could catch the -meaning of our conclave, János and I discussed -our plans, we found that everything fell before the -insuperable difficulty of our ignorance of the topography -of the palace. There seemed nothing -for it but to endeavour to interview Anna once -more, dangerous as the process might be. And we -were already discussing in what character János -should present himself, when Fortune—that jade -that had long turned so cold a shoulder upon me—came -to the rescue in the person of the good -woman herself. There was a hard knock at the -door, which made us both, conspirators as we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -were, jump apart, and I involuntarily felt for the -pistol in my coat skirts, whilst János stalked to -open.</p> - -<p>And there stood the lank black figure which had -once seemed to cast a sort of shadow on my young -delight, but which now I greeted as that of an -angel of deliverance. She loved her mistress, her -mistress loved me—what could she do me then -but good?</p> - -<p>I sprang forward and drew her in by both hands. -She threw back the folds of her hood and looked -round upon us, and her grim anxious countenance -relaxed into something like a smile. Then she -dropped me a stiff curtsey, and coming close to -my ear:</p> - -<p>“I gave my mistress the gracious master’s letter,” -she said, and paused. I seized upon her -hand again.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Anna, dear Anna, how is she? How did -she take it? Was she much concerned? Was -she ...” I hesitated, “was she glad to learn I -am not dead?”</p> - -<p>The woman’s eyes looked as if they would fain -speak volumes, but her taciturn tongue gave -utterance to few words.</p> - -<p>“My mistress,” she said, “wept much, and -thanked God.” That was all, but I was satisfied.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> - -<p>“She is in much fear for you,” the messenger -went on after a pause. “She bade me say she -dared not write because of the danger to you; -she bade me say that the danger is greater than -you know of; that your enemies are other than -you think. Now they believe you dead, but you -may be recognised. And you were out to-day -again!” said Anna, suddenly dropping the sing-song -whisper of her recitation and turning upon -me sternly with uplifted finger. “Out, in spite -of my warning! I know, for I came to the inn to -find you. All this is foolish.”</p> - -<p>“And this is the end of your message?” said -I, who had been drinking in every word my wife’s -sweet lips had so sweetly spoken for me. “Was -there nothing else?” said I again, for my soul -hungered for a further sign of love.</p> - -<p>“There was one thing more,” said Anna in her -stolid way: “she bade me say she would contrive -to see you somehow soon, but that as you love -her you must keep hidden.”</p> - -<p>I shut my eyes for a second to taste in the -secret of my heart the honeyed savour of that -little phrase that meant so much: “<i>as you love -me!</i>” for there rang the unmistakable appeal of -love to love! And I smiled to think that she still -reserved the telling of her secret. I guessed it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -was because she was pleased that I should want -her for herself, and not for the vain pride that -had been our undoing.</p> - -<p>And then, with my bold resolve a thousandfold -strengthened, I caught Anna by the arm.</p> - -<p>“Now listen,” said I, and stooped to bring my -lips to her ear. “When I went out this afternoon -it was to good purpose. I have seen Frau Lothner.... -I know all.”</p> - -<p>“Lord God!” cried Anna, and snatched her -hand from mine and threw her arms to heaven, -her long brown face overspread with pallor; “and -she has seen you, has recognised you—the Court -doctor’s wife! Then God help us all! If the -secret is not out to-day it will be to-morrow. Oh, -my poor child, my poor child!” She rocked -herself to and fro in a paroxysm of indignant -grief.</p> - -<p>“But,” said I, trying to soothe her that she -might listen to my plan, “Madam Lothner is an -old friend of mine, she is devoted to the Princess, -she has a kind heart, she has promised me discretion.”</p> - -<p>“She!” said Anna, and paused to throw me -a look of unutterable scorn. “She, the sheep-head! -in the hands of such an one as the Court -doctor! My lord, I give you but to midnight to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -escape! for as it happens—and God is merciful -that it happens so—the Margrave has sent for -the doctor at his camp of Liegnitz, and he will -not return until after supper.”</p> - -<p>“So be it,” said I gaily; “escape I shall, Anna, -but not alone.”</p> - -<p>The woman’s sallow face grew paler yet. The -depth of the love for the child she had nursed at -her breast gave her perspicacity. Her eye sought -mine with fearful anticipation.</p> - -<p>I drew her to the furthest end of the room and -rapidly expounded my project, which developed -itself in my mind even as I spoke. Outside the -snow was falling fast. All good citizens were -within doors; there was as yet no suspicion of -my presence in the town; the palace was quiet -and my bitterest enemy was absent; to delay -would be to lose our only chance. The passion -of my arguments, none the less forcible, perhaps, -because of the stress of circumstances which kept -my voice at whisper pitch, bore down Anna’s -protests, her peasant’s fears. I had, I believe, a -powerful auxiliary in the woman’s knowledge of -all that her beloved mistress might be made to -suffer upon the discovery of my reappearance. -She felt the convincing truth of my statement, -that if the attempt was to be made at all it must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> -be made this very night, and she saw too that I -said true when I told her I would only give up -such attempt with my life.</p> - -<p>Moreover (joy as yet hardly realised!) she -knew that my wife’s happiness lay in me alone; -and so she agreed, with unexpected heartiness, -to every detail of my scheme.</p> - -<p>She was to meet me at the end of the palace -garden lane before the stroke of eight, two hours -hence, and admit me through a side postern into -the garden itself. We were obliged to fix so early -an hour to avoid the necessity of running twice -past sentries, who, it seemed, were doubled around -the palace after eight o’clock. The Princess’s -apartments were upon the first floor on the garden -side, and from the terrace below it was quite possible, -it appeared, for an active man to climb up -to her balcony. I would bring a rope-ladder—János -should make it, for he had no doubt some -knowledge of that scaling implement. As soon -as she had shown me the way, Anna was to -endeavour to prepare her mistress for my coming. -János in his turn was to be waiting with my carriage -and post-horses as near the garden gate as -he dared. The Princess, the nurse told me, was -wont to retire about nine, it might be a little -earlier or later, and liked then to be left in solitude,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -Anna herself being the only person admitted -to her chamber.</p> - -<p>Among the many risks there was one inevitable, -the danger of being discovered by my wife lurking -on her balcony before Anna had had time to carry -her message: for it was impossible, the woman -warned me, that she should now see her mistress -before the latter descended to meet the Duke at -supper. I was, however, gaily prepared to face -this risk, and even, foolhardy as it may seem, -desired in my inmost soul that there should be -no intermediary on this occasion, and that my -lips only should woo her back to me; that this -first meeting after our hard parting should be -sacred to ourselves alone.</p> - -<p>I reckoned besides upon the fact that since -Ottilie knew I was in the town, she would not be -surprised at my boldness, however desperate; that -she would ascertain with her own eyes who it was -who dared climb so high, before she called for -help.</p> - -<p>At length, when everything was clear,—and the -woman showed after all a wonderful mother wit,—Anna -departed in the storm, and I and János were -left to our own plans and preparations. As for -me, my heart had never ridden so high; never for -a second did I pause or hesitate. In a few minutes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -we had devised half a dozen alternate schemes of -flight, all equally good—all equally precarious.</p> - -<p>“Will your honour leave it to me,” said the old -campaigner at last, as he sat beginning to plait -and knot various lengths of our luggage ropes into -an escape ladder,—“the settlement of the inn account, -the post-horses, and the choice of the road?”</p> - -<p>With this I was content.</p> - -<p>The wind had abated a little, but the snow was -still falling steadily when I set forth at length. -The streets were, as I expected, very empty, and -the few wayfarers whom I chanced to meet were -so enveloped and so plastered with white, the chief -thought of every one was so obviously how best -to keep himself warm, how soonest to get within -shelter, that I hugged myself again upon my -luck. There was a glow within me which defied -the elements.</p> - -<p>At the corner of the garden lane, at the appointed -place, even as the tower clock began the -quarter chimes, I saw a woman’s figure rapidly -approaching the trysting spot from the opposite -direction. I hesitated for a moment, uncertain as -to its identity, but it made straight for me, and I -saw it was Anna. As we turned into the lane -itself she suddenly whispered:</p> - -<p>“Put your arm round my waist,” and the next<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -instant, from the very midst of my amazement, I -realised her meaning: we had to pass close by -a sentry-box. Woman’s wits are ever sharper -than man’s. The sentry was stamping to and fro, -beating his breast with his disengaged hand, but -ceased his bear dance to stare at us, as we came -within the light of the postern lamp, and launched -at the dim couple so lovingly embraced some rude -witticism in his peasant tongue, accompanied by -a grunt of good-natured laughter. My supposed -sweetheart pulled her hood further over her face, -answered back tartly with a couple of words in the -country dialect; and, followed by an ironical blessing -from the churl, we were free to pursue our -way unchallenged.</p> - -<p>This was the only obstacle we encountered; the -lane was quite deserted. We stopped before a -little postern door half buried in ivy, which Anna, -producing a key from her pocket, unlocked after -some difficulty. At last it rolled back on its rusty -hinges with what sounded in my ears as an exultant -creak. An ancient bird’s nest fell upon my -head as we passed through into the garden. Anna -carefully pushed the door to once more, but without -locking it, and we hastened towards the distant -gleaming front of the palace, stumbling as we -went, for the soft snow concealed the irregularities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -of the path. Without hesitation, however, my -guide led me between two fantastically carved -hedges of box and yew till we came to a statue, -rearing a blurred outline, ghostly white in the -faint snowlight. Here she stood still and pointing -to the south wing:</p> - -<p>“There,” she said, while all the blood in my -body leaped, “there are my mistress’s apartments; -see you those three windows above the terrace? -The middle window with the balcony is that of -her Highness’s bedroom. You cannot mistake it. -The ivy is as thick as a man’s arm, and you may -climb by it in safety. Now that I have done what -you bade me I will go to the palace. God see us -through this mad night’s work!”</p> - -<p>With these words she left me. I ventured to -the foot of the terrace wall, and creeping alongside -soon found the terrace steps, which I ascended -with a tread as noiseless as the fall of the thick -snowflakes all around me. I stood under her -balcony. I groped for the ivy-stems, and found -them indeed as thick as cables. It was a plant of -centenarian growth, and it clasped the old palace -walls with a hundred arms, as close as welded -iron: as strong and commodious a ladder as my -purpose required. I swung myself up (I tremble -now to think how recklessly, when one false step<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> -might have ended the life that had grown -so dear), and next I found myself upon the -balcony—Ottilie’s balcony!—and through the -parted curtains could peer into her lighted -room.</p> - -<p>Then for the first time I paused, hesitating to -pry upon her retirement like a thief in the night. -For a moment I knelt upon the snow and cried in -my heart for pardon to her. Then, drawing cautiously -aside from the shaft of light, I looked in. -It was a large lofty apartment with much gilding, -tarnished it seemed by time, and with faded paintings -and medallions on the walls. In an alcove -curtained off I divined in the shadow a great carved -bed, whose gilt curves caught now and again a -gleam of ruby light from the open door of an -immense rose china stove. My eyes lingered tenderly -over every detail of the sanctuary sacred to -my lady. Outside upon the balcony, all in the -darkness, the cold, and the snow, my whole being -began to swim in a dreamy warmth of love. It -is like enough that had not something come to -rouse me, I might have been found next morning, -stiff, frozen upon my perch, with a smile -upon my lips—a very sweet and easy death! -But from this dangerous dreaminess I was presently -aroused to vivid watchfulness and energy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -My wandering gaze had been for a little while -uncomprehendingly fixed upon a shining wing of -flowered satin stuff that trailed on one side of a -great armchair, the back of which was turned -towards me. This wing of brocade caught the -full illumination of the candles on the wall and -showed hues of pink and green as dainty as the -monthly roses in the garden of my old home in -England. Now as I gazed the roses began to -move as if a breeze had shaken them, and lo! -the next moment, a little hand as white as milk -fluttered down like a dove upon them and drew -them out of sight. For a second my heart stood -still, and then beat against my breast like a frantic -wild thing of the woods against the bars of its -cage. She was there, there already, my beloved! -What kept me from breaking in upon -her, I cannot say—a sort of fear of looking upon -her face again in the midst of my great longing—or -maybe my good angel! Anyhow I paused, -and pausing was saved. For in a second more a -door opposite to me opened, and an elderly lady, -followed by two servants carrying a table spread -for a repast, entered the room. The lady came -towards the armchair and curtsied. I saw her -lips move and caught the murmur of her voice, -and listened next in vain for the music of those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> -tones for which my ear had hungered so many -days and nights.</p> - -<p>I saw the white hand cleave the air again as if -with an impatient gesture. The lady curtsied, the -lackeys deposited the table near the chair, and all -three withdrew.</p> - -<p>I had trusted to fate to be kind to me this night, -but I had not dared expect from fate more than -neutrality; and now it was clear that it was taking -sides for me, and that my wife had been strangely -well inspired to sup in her chamber alone, instead -of in public with her father, as I had been told -was her wont.</p> - -<p>No sooner had the attendants retired than I -beheld her light figure spring up with the old -bounding impetuosity I had loved and laughed -at, fling herself against the door, and I heard the -snap of the key. Now was my opportunity! And -yet again I hesitated and watched. My face was -pressed against the glass in the full glare of the -light, without a thought of caution, forgetting that, -were she to look up and see me, the woman alone -might well scream at the wild, eager face watching -her with burning eyes from out of the black -night. But she did not look up.</p> - -<p>Wheeling round at the door itself as if she could -not even wait to get back to her chair, Ottilie—my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -Ottilie—drew from beneath the lace folds -that crossed upon her young bosom a folded letter, -which I recognized, by the coarse grey paper, -as that which my own hand had scored in the little -provision shop a few hours ago.</p> - -<p>An extraordinary mixture of emotions seized -upon my soul: a sort of shame of myself again -for spying upon her private life, and an unutterable -rapture. I could have knelt once more in -the snow as before a sacred shrine, and I could -have broken down a fortress to get to her. From -the very strength of the conflict I was motionless, -with all my life still in my eyes.</p> - -<p>When she had finished reading she lifted her -face for a moment, and then for the first time I -saw it. Oh, dear face, paled with many tears -and dark thoughts, but beautiful, beyond even my -heated fancy, with a new beauty, rarer and more -exquisite than it is given me to describe! The -same, yet not the same! The wife I had left -had been a wilful and wayward child, a mocking -sprite—the wife I here found again was a gracious, -a ripe and tender woman, upon whose lips -and eyes sat the seal of a noble, sorrowful -endurance.</p> - -<p>She lifted the letter to her lips and kissed it, -looked up again, and then our eyes met! Then I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> -hardly remember what I did. I was unconscious -of any deliberate thought; I only knew that there -was my wife, and that not another second should -pass before I had her in my arms.</p> - -<p>I suppose I must have hurled myself against -the casement; the lock yielded, and the window -flew open. Enveloped in a whirl of floating snow -I leaped into the warm room. With dilated, -fixed eyes, with parted lips, she stood, terror-stricken, -at first, yet erect and undaunted. I had -counted all along on her courage, and it did not -fail me! But before I had even time to speak, -such a change came over her as is like the first -upspring of sunlight upon the colourless world of -dawn. As you may see a wave gather itself aloft -to break upon the shore, so she drew herself up -and flung herself, melting into tears, body and -soul, as it were, upon my heart. And the next -moment her lips sought mine.</p> - -<p>Never before had she so come to me—never -before had life held for me such a moment! Oh, -my God! it was worth the suffering!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER V</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">A knock</span> without aroused us. With a stifled cry -of alarm, the woman who had made no sound on -the violent entry of an armed man upon her unprotected -solitude, now fell into deadly anguish. -She sprang to the door, and I could see the lace -on her bosom flutter with the fear of her heart -as she bent her ear to listen. The knock was -repeated.</p> - -<p>“Who is it?” cried Ottilie, in a strangled voice. -“I had said I would be alone.”</p> - -<p>“‘Tis I, child,” came the answer in the well-known -deep note; “it is Anna, alone.”</p> - -<p>I thrust my sword back into its scabbard; my -wife drew a long breath of relief, and glanced at -me with her hand pressed to her heart.</p> - -<p>“Anna, thank God! We can admit her: Anna -is safe,” she said, and turned the key.</p> - -<p>Anna opened the door, stood an instant on the -threshold, contemplating us in silence; a faint -smile hovered about her hard mouth. Then, -without wasting words on futile warnings, she -made fast the lock, deposited on the floor a dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -lantern she had concealed under her apron, walked -to the window, which she closed as best she could, -and drew the curtains securely. Indeed, her precaution -was not idle: through the silence of the -outside world of night, muffled by the snow, but -yet unmistakable, the tread of the first patrolling -round now grew even more distinctly upon our -ear, passed under the terrace, emphasised by an -occasional click of steel, and died away round the -corner. With the vanishing sound melted the new -anxiety which had clutched me, and I blessed the -falling snow which must have hidden again, as -soon as registered, the tell-tale traces of my footsteps -below.</p> - -<p>Anna had listened with frowning brow; when -all was still once more, she turned to the Princess, -and briefly, but in that softened voice I remembered -of old:</p> - -<p>“I have told your ladies that you had bidden me -attend to you this night, and that you must not -be disturbed in the morning,” and then turned to -me: “All is ready, sir; we have till noon before -being discovered. And now, child,” she continued, -as Ottilie, still closely clinging to my side, looked -up inquiringly, “no time to lose; there is death in -this for thy gracious lord, if not for us all as well.”</p> - -<p>“What does she mean?” asked Ottilie, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -seemed brought from a far sphere of bliss face -to face with cold reality. “Oh, Basil, Basil, to -leave me again!”</p> - -<p>“Leave you! I will never leave you,” cried I, -touched to the quick at the change which had -come upon the proud spirit of my beloved; “but -if you will not come with me, with your husband, -if you fear the perils of flight, the hardships of -the road, or even,” said I, though it was only to -try her and taste once again the exquisite joy of -loving, humble words from her lips, “if you cannot -make up your mind to give up your high state -here, to live as the wife of a simple gentleman, -I am content to die at your side. But leave you, -never again! Ah! my God, once was too much.”</p> - -<p>She looked at me for a second with tender -reproach in her tear-dimmed eyes and upon her -trembling lips; then she answered with a simplicity -that rebuked my mock humility:</p> - -<p>“I am content to go with you, Basil, were it to -the end of the world.”</p> - -<p>At this I could not, in spite of Anna’s presence, -but take her to my heart again, and the nurse, -after watching us with a curious look of mingled -pleasure and jealousy in her hollow eyes, suddenly -and somewhat harshly bade us remember -once more that time was short.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You,” she went on to her lady, peremptorily, -as if conscious of being herself the true mistress of -the situation, “drink you of that broth and break -some bread, and drink of that wine, for you have -not eaten to-day. And you,” she added, turning -to me, “make ready with your ladder.”</p> - -<p>Impatiently and sternly she stood by us until we -prepared to obey her orders.</p> - -<p>We owe a very great debt of gratitude to this -woman!</p> - -<p>My wife sat down like a child, watching me, -sweet heart! over every mouthful of soup as -one who fears the vision may fade. As for -me, appreciating all the importance of immediate -action, I threw from me the perilous temptation of -letting myself go to the delight of the moment—a -delight enhanced, perhaps, by the very knowledge -of environing danger. Opening my cloak, -I unwound the length of rope from my waist, -cautiously slipped out again on the balcony and -fastened one end to the iron rail. Remembering -the precious burden it was to bear, I could not -be satisfied without testing every knot, and finally -trying its strength with my own weight by descending -to the terrace. It worked satisfactorily, -and the distance, fortunately, was not excessive. -Then leaving it dangling, in three leaps I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -up again and once more in the warm room, just -in time to see an exquisite gleam of silk stocking -disappear into the depths of the fur boot which -Anna was fastening with all the dexterity of a -nurse dressing a child.</p> - -<p>And, indeed, my sweet love submitted to be -turned and bustled and manipulated with an uncomplaining -docility as if she was again back in -her babyhood—although in truth I have reason -to believe, from what I know of her and have -heard since, that not even then had she ever been -remarkable for docility.</p> - -<p>Grimly smiling, Anna completed her labour by -submerging the dainty head in a deep hood; -the sable-lined cloak and the muff she handed -over to me with the abrupt command: “Throw -them out! Auswerfen!” Anna should have been -a grenadier sergeant; nevertheless, the thought -was good, and I promptly obeyed. Next she gave -me the lantern—she had thought of everything!—and -commenced extinguishing the lights in the -room. I took Ottilie by the hand, the little warm -hand, ungloved, that it might the tighter feel the -rope.</p> - -<p>“Will you trust yourself, love?” said I. She -gave me no answer but a shaft of one of her old -fearless looks and yielded her waist to my arm,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> -and thus we stepped forth into the snow and the -night. I guided her to the rope and showed her -where to hold, and where to place her feet, and -then, climbing over the balcony, supporting myself -by the projecting stones and the knotted ivy, -I was able to guide the slender body down each -swinging rung: for when the blood is hot and -the heart on fire one can do things that would -otherwise appear well-nigh impossible.</p> - -<p>Safely we reached the ground. I enveloped -her in the cloak which Anna’s forethought had -provided, and after granting myself the luxury -of another embrace I was preparing to ascend -the blessed rope again for the purpose of assisting -Anna, when I discovered that incomparable -woman solidly and stolidly planted by our side in -the snow.</p> - -<p>“All is right, gracious sir,” she said in a hoarse -whisper; “but it would be as well to take away -that rope, since you can go up and down so easily -without it.”</p> - -<p>Recognising in an instant the wisdom of the -suggestion—it was well some one had a waking -brain that night!—I clambered up once more, -and in a few seconds had flung down the tell-tale -ladder, and descended again.</p> - -<p>Anna took up the lantern, which she hid under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -her cloak, and, all three clinging together, we -hastened to the postern as noiselessly as shadows. -The snow fell, but the wind had all subsided, and -the air was now so still that the cold struck no -chill.</p> - -<p>Outside the postern, seeing no one in sight, we -paused.</p> - -<p>“I have told János to be at the bottom of the -lane,” said I to Anna, as she pocketed the key -after turning the lock. And then to my wife, who -hung close and silent to my arm: “It is but a -little way, and then you shall rest.”</p> - -<p>Even as I spoke I turned to lead her, but Anna -arrested me:</p> - -<p>“I have thought better,” she said. “To leave -the town in a carriage is dangerous. I have arranged -otherwise.”</p> - -<p>I was about, I believe, to protest, or at least -discuss, when Ottilie, who had hitherto permitted -herself to be led whither I would, like one in a -dream, suddenly cried to me in an urgent undertone -to let Anna have her way: “Believe me,” -she said, “you will not repent it.” I would have -gone anywhere at the command of that voice.</p> - -<p>“It shall be so,” said I; “but there is János, -and we cannot leave him in the lurch.”</p> - -<p>“No, we must have János with us,” said Anna;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -“but that is easy. Follow me, children.” And -uncovering her lantern, with her skirts well kilted -up, she preceded us with fearless strides to the -secluded turn at the bottom of the lane, where, -true to his promise, I found the heiduck and his -conveyance.</p> - -<p>For the greater security the lamps of the carriage -had not been lit, but we could see its bulk -rise in denser black against the gloom before us, -and feel the warmth of the horses steam out upon -us, with a pleasant stable odour, into the purity -of the air.</p> - -<p>There was a rapid colloquy between our two -old servants. János, the cunning fox! at once -and appreciatively agreed to Anna’s superior plan -of action, and indeed his old campaigner’s wits -promptly went one better than the peasant’s -shrewdness: instead of merely dismissing the carriage -as she suggested, he bade the coachman -drive out by the East Gate of the town and, halting -at Gleiwitz, await at the main hostelry there -the party that would come on the morrow. And -in the dark I could see him emphasise the order -by the transfer of some pieces, that clicked knowingly -in the night silence. The point of the -manœuvre, however, was only manifest to me -when, turning to follow Anna’s lead again down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -a side alley, the fellow breathed into my ear with -a chuckle:</p> - -<p>“While your honour was away I took upon -myself to despatch his carriage with our luggage, -to meet us, I said, at Dresden. That will be two -false scents for them—and we, it seems, take -the south road to Prague! We shall puzzle Budissin -yet.”</p> - -<p>On we tramped through the deserted bye-streets. -It was only when we were stopped at last, in that -self-same poor little mean lane, before the self-same -poor little mean shop, faintly lit inside by -a dull oil lamp, that I recognised the scene of my -morning’s interview with Anna—that interview -which seemed already to have passed into the -far regions of my memory, so much had I lived -through since.</p> - -<p>We met but few folk upon our way, who -paid little attention to us. As we entered into -the evil-smelling room, stepping down into it -from the street, and as Anna shot back the slide -of the lantern and turned upon us a triumphant -smiling face, I felt that our chief peril was over. -The shop was empty, but she was not disposed -to allow us even a little halt: she marshalled us -through the dank narrow passages with which I -had already made acquaintance, across the courtyard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> -into the back street. There stood a country -waggon with a leathern tent. By the flash of the -lantern I saw that to it were harnessed a pair of -great raw-boned chestnuts that hung their heads -patiently beneath the snow, yet seemed to have -known better service in their days—no doubt at -one time had felt the trooper’s spurs.</p> - -<p>Beside them stood a squat man, enveloped to -the ears in sheepskin, with a limp felt hat drawn -over his brow till only some three-quarters of a -shrewd, empurpled, not unkindly visage was left -visible. The waggoner was evidently expecting -us, for he came forward, withdrew his pipe, touched -his hat, and made a leg.</p> - -<p>“My cousin,” said Anna to us, and added -briefly and significantly: “He asks no questions.”</p> - -<p>Then in a severe tone of command she proceeded -to address several to him. Had he placed -fresh hay in the waggon according to her orders? -Had he received from her sister the ham, and the -wine and the blankets? Had the horses been -well fed? On receiving affirmative grunts in -answer, she bade him then immediately produce -the chair, that the lady and the gentleman might -get in.</p> - -<p>Between the closed borders of her hood I -caught a glimpse of Ottilie’s faint smile, as lighted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -by the lantern rays she mounted upon the wooden -stool and disappeared into the dark recesses of -the waggon, stirring up a warm dust as she went, -and a far-away fragrance of hay and faded clover.</p> - -<p>“Now you, sir,” said Anna, and jogged my -elbow.</p> - -<p>I believe at that moment we were to her but -a pair of babes and nurslings for whom she was -responsible, and that she would have as readily -combed our hair and washed our faces as if we -were still of a size to be lifted on her knee.</p> - -<p>I obeyed. And truly, as I crawled forward in -the dark, amid the warm straw, groping my way -to the further end till I laid my hand on Ottilie’s -soft young arm extended towards me, when I -heard her laugh a little laugh to herself as we -snuggled in the nest together, I felt a happiness -that was like that of a child, all innocent of past -and improvident of future. Nevertheless at one -and the same time my whole being was stirred to -its depths with a tenderness my manhood had not -yet known.</p> - -<p>In those foolish bygone days I had loved her, -the sweet soul, with the unworthy, mad passion -of a lover for his mistress. When she left me -I had mourned her as a man mourns for his wife, -flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone. Now, however,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> -we seemed to be lad and maid together; our -love, after all the sorrow and the agony we had -passed through, seemed to wear the unspeakable -freshness of a first courtship. It was written that -good measure was to be paid me to compensate -for past anguish—good measure, heaped up, flowing -over! I took it with a thankful heart.</p> - -<p>The cart swayed and creaked as János and -Anna mounted and settled themselves at our feet, -drawing the hay high over themselves. Then -came another creaking and swaying in the forward -end, we heard a jingle of bells, a crack of the -whip and a hoarse shout: the cart groaned and -strained to the effort of the horses, then yielded. -And at a grave pace we rumbled over the cobble-stones, -turning hither and thither through street -after street which we could not see. And in the -midst of our hay we felt a sense of comfortable -irresponsibility and delicious mystery. All in the -inner darkness we were dimly conscious of the -snowy pageant outside: the ghost-like houses and -the twinkling lights. Ottilie lay against my -shoulder, and I felt her light breath upon my -cheek.</p> - -<p>After a while—it would be hard to say how long—there -was a halt; there came a shout from our -driver, and an answering shout beyond. I knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> -we had come to the Town Gates. That was a palpitating -moment of anxiety as the two voices exchanged -parley, which the heavy beating of the -pulses in my ears would not allow me to follow. -Next the rough cadence of a jovial laugh fell loud -upon the air, and then—sweeter music I have seldom -heard!—the clank of the gate’s bar. Once -more we felt ourselves rumbling on slowly till we -had passed the bridge and exchanged the cobbles -of the town for the surface of the great Imperial -road, more lenient for all its ruts. The cousin -cracked his whip again and bellowed to his cattle; -after infinite persuasion they broke into a heavy -jog-trot.</p> - -<p>“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, -and of the Holy Ghost,” said Anna suddenly from -her dark corner, in a loud vibrating voice, “give -thanks to God, you children!” She leant forward -as she spoke, and pulled aside the leathern curtains -that hung across the back of the cart.</p> - -<p>With the rush of snowy air came to us framed -by the aperture a retreating vision of Budissin, -studded here and there with rare gleams of light.</p> - -<p>Thus did my wife, the young Princess of Lusatia, -leave her father’s dominions, her prospects of -a throne, for the love of a simple English gentleman!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER VI</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">I shall</span> carry to the grave, as one of the sweetest -of my life, the memory of that night journey. -Coming as it did between the fierce emotions and -dangers of our meeting and flight, and the perilous -and furious episode that yet awaited us, it seems -doubly impregnated with an exquisite serenity of -happiness. Full of brief moments, that brought -me then a poignant joy, it brings to my heart as -I look back on it now a tenderness as of smiles -and tears together.</p> - -<p>After a little while the flakes had ceased falling, -and, in the faint snowlight, beneath a clear sky, -we gazed forth together from our ambulant nest, -here upon mysterious stretches of plain-land, there -upon ghosts of serried trees, trees that marched as -it were past us back towards Budissin. I remember -how in a clear space of sky a star shone out -upon us at last, and how it seemed a good omen, -and how we kissed in the darkness.</p> - -<p>Then there was our meal, with Anna’s lantern -to illumine the feast. I was so lost in watching -my beloved bite her black bread contentedly with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> -small white teeth, and toast me with loving eyes -over the thin wine, that I could scarce fall to, myself. -Yet when I did so it was with right good -appetite, for I was hungered, and I never tasted -better fare.</p> - -<p>Then János got out of the waggon to sit in -front by the driver and smoke. My great-uncle -had been such a confirmed tobacco-man that János -had acquired the habit in attendance upon him, -and it did not behove me to interfere with an indulgence -fostered by thirty years’ service.</p> - -<p>Anyhow, on that night the stray whiffs of his -strong tobacco mingled not unpleasantly with the -keen cold scents of the night; and the sound of -the two men’s talk, with the monotonous jingle -and rumble of harness and cart, made a comfortable -human accompaniment to our passage in the -midst of the great silence. Anna went to sleep -and snored after her good day’s work, waking now -and again with a start and a groan, and thence to -oblivion once more. And then we too, oblivious of -the world, fell into a long dream, hand in hand—a -great wide-eyed dream filling our silence with -soaring music, our darkness with all the warm -colour of life.</p> - -<p>And thus we reached the first halting-place in -the itinerary planned by János and myself on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> -Imperial Chaussée. The place whence we would -best defy our enemies, and therefore our ultimate -destination, was of course my own Castle of -Tollendhal, recent experience having sufficiently -demonstrated that in England we should be ill-protected -from the machinations of Budissin. -This first stage was Löbau.</p> - -<p>Never did town look so thoroughly asleep under -its snow-laden eaves, behind its black shutters, -thought I, as our tired horses, steaming and stumbling, -dragged our cart up the main street.</p> - -<p>A watchman had just sung out his cry: “The -twelfth hour of the night, and a clear heaven,” -when we turned into the market-place, from the -middle of which he chanted his informing ditty to -those Löbauers who might chance to be awake to -hear and thereby be comforted.</p> - -<p>Spear in one hand and lantern in the other, the -fellow approached to inquire into such an unusual -event as the passage of midnight travellers. We -heard János, in brief tones, tell a plausible tale of -his lordship’s travelling coach having broken down -(on its way from Görlitz, said he, who never missed -a chance of falsifying a scent!), and of his lordship, -who happened to be in a special haste to -proceed, having availed himself of a passing country -cart to pursue his journey to the next posting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> -town, and so forth, all the main points of this -story being corroborated by an affirmative growl -from our Jehu. Whereupon the watchman, honest -fellow, nothing loath doubtless to vary the perennial -monotony of his avocation, undertook to awaken -for our benefit the inmates of the post-house, the -best house of entertainment, he asseverated, in the -town.</p> - -<p>It will be long, I take it, before the worthy -burghers of Löbau, and especially mine host of -the “Cross Keys,” forget the mysterious passage -at dead of night of the great unknown magnate -and his hooded lady, of the tire-woman with the -forbidding countenance, and of the ugly body-servant, -whose combined peremptoriness and lavish -generosity produced such wonders,—even had -subsequent events not sufficed to fix it upon their -minds as a tragic epoch in the history of their -country.</p> - -<p>A few minutes of obstinate hammering and -bell-ringing by János and by the deeply impressed -watchman, awoke the hostelry from the depths -of its slumbers. The bark of dogs responded -first to the clangour; lights appeared at various -corners; windows, and then doors, were thrown -open. At last János threw back the leather curtain -of our conveyance, and hat in hand, with his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> -greatest air of bonne maison assisted my lord in -his cloak, my lady in the furs (both much ornamented -with wisps of hay), to alight from their cart.</p> - -<p>My lady, veiled and silent, retired for an hour’s -rest, and so away from the peering curiosity of -the assembling servants. And my lord paced the -common-room, feverishly waiting for the coming -of the new conveyance which János, after one of his -brief requisitioning interviews (pandour style), had -announced would be forthcoming with brief delay.</p> - -<p>The common-room was dank and cold enough, -but my lord’s soul was in warm consorting: it was -still exalted by the last look that my lady had -thrown back at him, raising her hood for one -instant as, ascending the stairs, she had left him -for the first separation.</p> - -<p>In less than an hour the tinkling of collar-bells -and the sound of horses’ hoofs, clattering with a -vigour of the best augury, were heard approaching. -Even as János entered to confirm by word -the success of his quest, my beloved appeared -with a readiness which to me was sweeter than -any words: she too had been watching the moments -which would speed us onwards together -once more.</p> - -<p>Through a pretty concourse of dependants, all of -whom had now got wind of the rain of gratuities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> -with which the great traveller’s servant eased the -wheels of difficulty, we entered our new chariot. -I can hardly mind now what sort of a vehicle this -was. I believe in its days it had been a decent -enough travelling chaise: at any rate it moved -fast. Once more we rolled through the silent -street, on the hillside roads, up hill and down dale, -my bride warmly nestled in my arms, and both of -us telling over again the tangled tale of the year -that had been wasted for us.</p> - -<p>And thus, in the idle iteration of lovers’ talk, -with the framing of plans for the future, changeable -and bright as the clouds of a summer’s day, -did we fill the rapid hours which brought us to -Zittau in the early morning.</p> - -<p>But Zittau was still within the dominions of the -eloping Princess’s father; and at Zittau, therefore, -much the same procedure was hastily adopted as -at the previous stage: another hour or so of separation, -another chaise and fresh horses, and once -more a flight along the mountain roads, as the -dawn was spreading grey and chill over the first -spurs of the Lusatian hills.</p> - -<p>This time we spoke but little to each other. The -fatigue of a great reaction was upon us. Anna -was already snoring in her corner, her head completely -enveloped in her shawl, when, as I gazed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> -down tenderly at my wife’s face, I saw the sweet -lids close in the very middle of a smile, and the -placidity of sleep fall upon her.</p> - -<p>I have had, since the Budissin events, many -joys; but there is none the savour of which dwells -with so subtle, so delicate, a perfume in my memory -as that of my drive in the first dawn with my -wife asleep in my arms.</p> - -<p>It was not yet twelve hours since I had found -her; and during those twelve hours I had only -seen her in the turmoil of emotion, or under stress -of anxiety, or by some flitting lamplight. Her -image dwelt in my mind as I had first beheld it -through the glass of the palace window, lovely -in the first bloom of graceful womanhood, stately -amid the natural surroundings of her rank. Now, -wrapped in confident slumber, swathed in her -great robes of fur, the only thing visible of her -young body being the little head resting in the -hollow of my arm, the fair skin flushing faintly -in the repose of sleep, fresh even in the searching -cruelty of the growing light, like the petal of a -tea rose, the rhythmic pulse of her bosom faintly -beating against my heart, she was once more, for -a little while, to me the Ottilie I had held in my -castle at Tollendhal. And as, for fear of disturbing -her, I restrained my passionate longing to kiss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> -those parted lips, those closed lids with the soft -long eyelashes, I could not tell which I yearned -for most: the Princess, the ripe woman I had -found again ... or the wayward mistress playing -at wife I had schooled myself to banish in the -wasted days of my overweening vanity.</p> - -<p>But why thus linger over the first stage of that -happy journey? Joy can only be told by contrast -to misery. We can explain sorrow in a hundred -pages, but if delight cannot be told in one, it cannot -be told at all. It is too elusive to be kept -within the meshes of many words. Sorrows we -forget,—by a merciful dispensation,—and it may -be wholesome to keep their remembrance in books. -Joys ever cling to the phials of memory like a scent -which nought can obliterate.</p> - -<p>And since I have undertaken to record the -reconquest of Jennico’s happiness, there remains -yet to tell the manner in which it all but foundered -in the haven. For this heartwhole ecstasy -of mine could not last in its entirety beyond a -few brief moments. As I thus grasped my happiness, -with a mind free at last from the confusing -vapours of haste and excitement, even as the fair -world around us emerged sharp and bright from -amid the shadows of dawn, all the precariousness -of our situation became likewise defined. Between<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> -me and the woman I loved, though now I held her -locked in my arms, arose the everlasting menace of -separation. How long would we be left together? -Where could I fly with her to keep her safe? I -hoped that amid the feudal state of my castle I -could defy persecution, but what could such a life -be at best? Thus, in the very first sweetness of -our reunion, was felt the bitterness of that hidden -suspense that must eventually poison all.</p> - -<p>Now as I look back, nothing seems more dreamlike -than the way in which my boding thought -suddenly assumed the reality of actual event.</p> - -<p>“In a little while” (I was saying to myself, as -I watched the shadows shorten, and the beams of -sunlight grow broader upon the snow), “in a little -while the hounds will be started in pursuit, the old -persecution will be resumed, more devilish than -ever.” And at the thought, against my will, a -contraction shook the arm on which my love was -resting. She stirred and awoke, at first bewildered, -then smiling at me. I let down the glass -of the coach, that the brisk morning air might -blow in upon us and freshen our tired limbs.</p> - -<p>We were then advancing but slowly, being midway -up the slope of a great wide dale; the horses -toiled and steamed. And then as we tasted keenly -the vigorous freshness of the morning air, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> -looked forth, speechless, upon the beauty of the -waking hour of nature—that incomparable hour -so few of us wot of—there came into the great -silence, broken only by the straining of harness -and the faint thud of our horses’ hoofs in the -snow, another noise: a curious, faint, little, far-off -noise like to no sound of nature. Ottilie -glanced at me, and I saw the pupil of her eye -dilate. She uttered no word, neither did I. But, -all at once, we knew that there was some one -galloping behind us.</p> - -<p>I thrust my head out. János was already on -the alert: standing with his back to the horses, -leaning upon the top of the coach, he was looking -earnestly down the valley. I can see his face -still, all wrinkled and puckered together in the -effort of peering against the first level rays of the -sun. Now, as I leaned out also, and the horse’s -gallop grew nearer and nearer upon my ear, I -caught, as I thought, a faint accompaniment of -other hoofs, still more distant. I looked at János, -who brought down his eyes to mine.</p> - -<p>“But three altogether, my lord,” he said. And, -reaching as he spoke for his musketoon, he laid -it on top of the coach. “And, thank God,” he -added, “one can see a long way down this slope.” -He bade the driver draw up on one side of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> -road, and I was able myself to look straight into -the valley.</p> - -<p>A flying figure, that grew every second larger -and blacker against the white expanse beneath us, -was rushing up towards us with almost incredible -swiftness. In the absolute stillness of the world -locked in snow, the rhythm of the hoofs, the -squelching of the saddle, the laboured snorting -of the over-driven horse, were already audible. -There were not many seconds to spare—and -action followed thought as prompt as flash and -sound. There was only time, in fact, to place the -bewildered Anna, just awakened, by my wife’s side -at the back of the coach, to pull up the shutter of -both windows, and to leap out.</p> - -<p>I was hatless. I grasped my still sheathed -sword in one hand, and with the other fumbled -for my pistols in my coat skirts, whilst with a -thrust of my shoulder I clapped the coach door -to. There was not time even to exchange a word -with Ottilie, but her deathly pallor struck me to -the heart and fired me to the most murderous -resolve.</p> - -<p>And now all happened quicker than words can -follow. No sooner had I touched the ground, -than out of space as it were, roaring and reeking, -hugely black against the sunshine, the horse and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> -his rider were upon me. I had failed to draw -my pistol, but I had shaken the scabbard off my -sword. There seemed scarce a blade’s length -between me and the flying onslaught. Suddenly, -however, the great animal swerved upon one -side, and was pulled up, almost crouching on its -haunches, by the force of an iron hand. The -rider’s face, outlined against the horse’s steaming -neck, bent towards me: Prince Eugen’s—great -indeed would have been my surprise had it been -any other—ensanguined, distorted with fury, glowing -with vindictive triumph, as once before I had -seen it thus thrust into mine.</p> - -<p>“Thou dog, Jennico ... ill-slaughtered interloper -... at last I have got thee! Out of my -way thou goest this time!...”</p> - -<p>As it spat these words, incoherently, the red -face became blocked from my view by a fist outstretched, -and I found myself looking down the -black mouth of a pistol barrel. I cut at it with -my sword, even as the yellow flame leaped out: -my blade was shattered and flew, burring, overhead. -But the ball passed me. At the same -instant there came a shout from above; the -Prince looked up and, quick as thought, wrenched -at his horse; the noble beast rose, beating the air -with his forefeet, just as János fired, over my head.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> -For a second all was confusion. The air seemed -full of plunging hoofs and blinding smoke. Our -own horses, taking fright, dragged the carriage -some yards away, where it stuck in a snowheap. -Then things became clear again. I saw,—I know -not how,—but all in the same flash, I saw a few -paces beyond me, János now standing in the road, -my wife in her dishevelled furs behind him; and -in front, free from the bulk of his dying horse, -my enemy on foot, pistol in hand, and once more -covering me with the most determined deliberation -of aim. With my bladeless sword hilt hanging -bracelet-like on my sprained wrist, defenceless, -I stood, dizzily, facing my doom.</p> - -<p>Then for a third time the air rang with a shattering -explosion. The Prince flung both arms up, -and I saw his great body founder headforemost, -a mere mass of clay, almost at my feet. I turned -again, and there was my János, with the smoking -musketoon still to his cheek, and there also my -wife with the face of an avenging angel, one hand -upon his shoulder, and the other, with unerring -gesture of command, still pointing at the space -beyond me where but a second before stood the -enemy who had held my life on the play of his -forefinger.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER VII</h2> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">For</span> the space of a few seconds we three stood -motionless. The awful stillness of the shadow of -death was upon our souls. Then, approaching -from the distance came again to our ears the sound -of hoofs, the stumbling trot of a tired horse; and -the quick wits of János were awakened to action.</p> - -<p>“Into the carriage, my lady,” said he, “and you, -my lord! We have loosed enough shots for one -day, and so it is best we should move on again and -avoid these other gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>He smiled as he spoke, a grim, triumphant -smile. As for me, it was certes nothing less than -triumph I felt in my heart. I would have had -Prince Eugen dead, indeed, but not so, not so!</p> - -<p>“Let us, at least,” I cried a little wildly, “see -if he still breathes!”</p> - -<p>“No need, my lord;” and János caught me by -the wrist. “I am not so old yet,” he added, eyeing -his weapon with a delighted look, “but what -I can still aim straight. Did I not know him to -be as truly carrion now as his good horse itself, -poor beast, I would surely enough despatch him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> -as he lies there biting the mud. But no need, my -lord. Right in the heart! The man was dead -before he touched the ground.” And as he spoke -János dragged us towards the coach.</p> - -<p>The driver, half risen from his seat, still clutching -one rein, seemed struck into an imbecility of -terror; the horses, now quieted, stretching their -necks luxuriously against the loosened bits, were -sniffing at the snow, as if in the hope of lighting -upon a blade of grass. Anna sat on the steps, -her face blanched to a sort of grey.</p> - -<p>“Up with you!” said János, and pushed her -with his knee. “Do you not see your lady is -faint?” The words aroused her, and they roused -me. In truth, Ottilie seemed scarcely able to -sustain herself; it was time I carried her away -from such scenes.</p> - -<p>After closing the doors, János handed me the -musketoon and the cartouche-box, with the brief -remark: “His lordship had better load again, the -while I drive, for this coachman of ours is out of -his wits with fright.” And thus we started once -more; and in the crash and rattle of the speed to -which János mercilessly put the horses, the stumbling -paces of the approaching pursuers were lost -to our hearing. The draught of air across her -face revived Ottilie, who now sat up with courage,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> -and tried to smile at me, though her face was still -set in a curious hardness, whilst I, with the best -ability of a sprained wrist, reloaded and reprimed. -Events (as I have oft thought since) had proved -how happy a thought it had been of mine (some -two weeks before, when we made our preparations -to leave London, to gratify my good János’s -desire for one of those admirable double-barrels I -had seen him so appreciatively and so covetously -handle at Fargus and Manton’s, in Soho.)</p> - -<p>When we reached the neck of the valley, I -leaned out again and looked back. The scene -of that crisis in my eventful life lay already some -hundred yards below us. The second of our pursuers—a -dragoon of Liegnitz, as I now could see -by his white coat, dirty yellow against the snow—was -in the act of dismounting from his exhausted -steed. I watched him bend over the -prostrate figure of his chief for an instant or two; -then straighten himself to gaze up at our retreating -coach; then, with his arms behind him and -his legs apart, in what, even at that distance, I -could see was an attitude of philosophical indifference, -turn towards the approaching figure of his -comrade, who, some hundred yards further down, -now made his appearance on the road, crawling -onwards on an obviously foundered horse. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> -was evident that whatever admiration the Margrave -may have commanded during his lifetime, -his death did not inspire his followers with any -burning desire to avenge it.</p> - -<p>I leant out further and handed back the loaded -musketoon to János.</p> - -<p>“You may spare our horses now,” said I; -“there is no fear of further pursuit to-day.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, my lord, so I see,” responded the heiduck, -with a cheerful jerk of the head in our rear. -“And, moreover, in a quarter of an hour we shall -be across the border.”</p> - -<table id="ttb3" summary="tb3"> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<p>Now of our story there is little more to tell. -And well for us that it is so; for one may, as I -have said, chronicle strange adventures and perils -of life and limb, and one may pour out on paper -the sorrows of an aching heart, the frenzy of despair; -but the sweet intimate details of happiness -must be kept secret and sacred, not only from the -pen but from the tongue. It will not, however, -come amiss that, to complete my narrative—in -which, one day, if Heaven will, my children shall -learn the romance of their parents’ wooing and -marriage—I should set down how it came about -that the Margrave contrived (to his own undoing) -to track us so speedily; how, with his death,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> -came the dispelling of the shadows upon both -our lives.</p> - -<p>Shortly after our return to Tollendhal, a letter -reached my wife from the other Ottilie. It was -evidently written in the greatest distraction of -mind, upon the very morning after our escape -from Budissin. Although conversation may not -have been a strong point with Madam Lothner, -she seemed to wield a very fluent pen. She -took two large sheets to inform us how, upon her -husband’s return on the previous night, his suspicions -being by some unaccountable means awakened, -he had forced from her the confession of all -that had passed between us in the afternoon. I -cannot here take up my space and time with the -record of her excuses, her anguish, her points of -exclamation, her appeals to Heaven to witness the -innocence of her intentions. But when I read her -missive I understood Anna’s contemptuous prophecy: -“She keep a secret? the sheep-head!” I -understood also my wife’s attitude of tolerant -affection, and I blushed when I remembered the -time when, blinded by conceit, I had sought this -great mock-pearl, when the real jewel lay at my -hand.... But to proceed.</p> - -<p>The doctor had instantly given the alarm at the -palace, with the result that the Princess’s flight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> -was discovered within two hours after it had taken -place. Now the uproar in the Ducal household -was, it seems, beyond description. Two detachments -of dragoons were at once sent in pursuit of -the two carriages which were known to have left -the town that night. (How we blessed Anna’s -shrewder scheme!) When they returned, empty-handed -of course, the nature of the trick was perceived. -Prince Eugen—whose fury, it appears, -was something quite appalling to behold, not only -because of the reassertion of the Princess’s independence, -but because the man whom he had -taken so much trouble to obliterate had presumed -to be alive after all!—Prince Eugen, according to -his wont, took matters into his own hands. He -sallied forth with his henchman the doctor, to -make inquiries for himself in the town. The result -of these was the discovery of the passage of -one Hans Meyerhofer’s cart out by the South -Gate after closing hours. This man was known to -the doctor (whose stables he supplied with fodder) -as being Anna’s cousin, and the connection of the -Princess’s nurse with the scheme of escape was -well demonstrated by her own disappearance. -This discovery was sufficient for the Margrave, -and (very much, it would appear, against the real -wishes of the Duke, whose most earnest desire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> -was to proceed with as little scandal as possible) -he with half a dozen troopers instantly set forth -in pursuit on the road to Prague. Of these troopers, -as we had seen, most had broken down on -the way, and none had been able to keep up with -the higher mettled mount of their leader—fortunately -for us.</p> - -<p>It was after his departure that Madam Lothner -wrote. She was convinced, as she characteristically -remarked, that the Prince would be successful, -and that the most dire misfortunes were about -to fall upon everybody—all through the obstinacy -of M. de Jennico, who really could not say he had -not been warned. Nevertheless, on the chance of -their having escaped, either to England or to -Tollendhal (and she addressed her letter to Tollendhal, -trusting that it would be forwarded), she -could not refrain from pouring forth her soul into -her beloved Princess’s bosom—and so forth and -so on. In fact, the good woman had wanted a -confidant, and had found it on paper.</p> - -<p>Our next information regarding the Court of -Lausitz came from a very different source, and -was of a totally different description. It was the -announcement in the Vienna News-Sheet of the -death of Eugen, Margrave of Liegnitz-Rothenburg, -through a fall from his horse upon a hunting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> -expedition. It was also stated that, yielding -at last to her repeated requests, the Duke had -consented to the retirement into a convent of his -only daughter, Princess Marie Ottilie, such having -been (it was stated) her ardent desire for more -than a year. The name of the convent was not -given.</p> - -<table id="ttb4" summary="tb4"> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - <td class="tdc">*</td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<p>Here this memoir, begun in such storm and -stress, within and without, continued in such different -moods and for such varied motives, ends -with the mantle of peace upon us, with the song -of birds in our ears.</p> - -<p>Tollendhal, that I knew beautiful in the autumn; -Tollendhal, the shrine of our young foolish love, is -now beautiful with the budding green all round -it under a dappled sky. But never had the old -stronghouse looked to me so noble as when I -brought my bride back to it in the snow. As the -carriage at last entered upon the valley road and -we saw it rise before us, high against the sky, -white-roofed and black-walled, stern, strong, and -frowning, while the winter sun flashed back a -warm, red welcome to the returning masters, from -some high window here and there, I felt my heart -stir. And as I looked at Ottilie I saw in her eyes -the reflection of the same fire.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></p> - -<p>Our people had been prepared for our coming -by messengers from Prague. The court of honour -was thronged, and we entered amid acclamations -such as would have satisfied the heart of a king -coming to his own again. We had broken the -bread and tasted the salt; we had drunk of the -wine on the threshold; we had been conducted in -state; and at last, at last we found ourselves alone -in the old room where my great-uncle’s portrait -kept its silent watch! János, who, his work of -trust done, had fallen back into his place of -heiduck as simply as the faithful blade falls back -into the scabbard, had retired to his station outside -the door. Without rang the wild music of the -gipsies to the feasting people, and the tremors of -the czimbalom found an answer in the very fibres -of my soul—to such music she had first come to -me in my dreams!</p> - -<p>The walls of the room were all ruddy with the -reflection of the bonfire in the courtyard: the -very air was filled with joy and colour. And -there was my great-uncle’s portrait—he was simpering -with ineffable complacency; and there the -rolled-up parchment; and there the table where -we had quarrelled, and where, since then, I had -poured forth such mad regrets. Oh! my God! -what memories!... and there was my wife!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span></p> - -<p>Since the events which had first divided and -then reunited us for ever, I had not yet been able -to find in the sweet, silent, docile woman I had -snatched back to my heart, the wilful Ottilie of -old. Her spirits seemed to have been sobered; -her gaiety, her petulance, to have been lost in -the still current of the almost fearful happiness -bought at the price of blood; and at times, in -my inmost heart, I had mourned for my lost -sprite. But now, as we stood together, she all -illumined with the rosy radiance from the fire, -she looked of a sudden from the picture on the -wall to me, and I saw a spark of the old mockery -leap into her eyes.</p> - -<p>“And so, sir,” she said, “the forward person -who married you against your will is mistress here -again, after all!... but you will always remember, -I trust, that it is the privilege of a princess -to choose her partner.” And then she added, -coming a step nearer me: “To-morrow we must -fill in the pedigree again—what say you, M. Jean -Nigaud de la Faridondaine?”</p> - -<p>Now, as she spoke, her lips arched into the -well-remembered smile, and beside it danced the -dimple. And I know not what came upon me, -for there are joys so subtle that they unman even -as sorrows, but I fell at her feet with tears.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a><br /><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="pc4 elarge">THE CHOIR INVISIBLE.</p> -<p class="pc1 lmid">By JAMES LANE ALLEN,</p> -<p class="pc reduct"><i>Author of “A Summer in Arcady,” “A Kentucky Cardinal,” etc.</i></p> - -<p class="pc1">12mo. Cloth. $1.50.</p> - -<hr class="d2" /> - -<div class="pbq"> -<p class="p1">“‘The Choir Invisible’ bears upon its front that unspeakable repose, -that unhurried haste which is the hall-mark of literature; it is alive -with the passion of beauty and of pain; it vibrates with that incommunicable -thrill which Stevenson called the tuning-fork of art. It is -distinguished by a sweet and noble seriousness, through which there -strains the sunny light of a glancing humour, a wayward fancy, like -sunbeams stealing into a cathedral close through stained-glass windows.”—<i>The -Bookman.</i></p> - -<p class="p1">“What impresses one most in this exquisite romance of Kentucky’s -green wilderness is the author’s marvellous power of drawing word-pictures -that stand before the mind’s eye in all the vividness of actuality. -Mr. Allen’s descriptions of nature are genuine poetry of form -and color.”—<i>The Tribune</i>, New York.</p> - -<p class="p1">“The impressions left by the book are lasting ones in every sense of -the word, and they are helpful as well. Strong, clear-cut, positive in -its treatment, the story will become a power in its way, and the novelist-historian -of Kentucky, its cleverest author, will achieve a triumph -second to no literary man’s in the country.”—<i>Commercial Tribune</i>, -Cincinnati.</p> - -<p class="p1">“It is this mighty movement of the Anglo-Saxon race in America, -this first appearance west of the mountains of civilized white types, -that Mr. Allen has chosen as the motive of his historical novel. And -in thus recalling ’the immortal dead’ he has aptly taken the title from -George Eliot’s greatest poem. It is by far his most ambitious work in -scope, in length, and in character drawing, and in construction. And, -while it deals broadly with the beginning of the nation, it gains picturesqueness -from the author’s <i>milieu</i>, as hardly anywhere else were the -aristocratic elements of colonial life so contrasted with the rugged life -of the backwoods.”—<i>The Journal.</i></p></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pc4 elarge">Works by F. Marion Crawford.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/b2.jpg" width="200" height="30" - alt="" - title="" /> -</div> - -<p class="pad1"><b>CORLEONE.</b> By <span class="smcap">F. Marion Crawford</span>, author of “Saracinesca,” -“Katharine Lauderdale,” “Taquisara,” etc. Two volumes in box. -$2.00.</p> - -<p class="pbq">“Beginning in Rome, thence shifting to Sicily, and so back and forth, the mere -local color of the scene of action is of a depth and variety to excite an ordinary -writer to extravagance of diction, to enthusiasm, at least of description; the plot is -highly dramatic, not to say sensational....</p> - -<p class="pbq">“Our author has created one of the strongest situations wherewith we are acquainted, -either in the novel or the drama.</p> - -<p class="pbq">“Then he has rendered an important service to social science, in addition to -creating one of the strongest and most delightful novels of our century.”</p> - -<p class="pr2 reduct">—<i>The Bookman.</i></p> - -<p class="pad1"><b>A ROSE OF YESTERDAY.</b> Cloth. $1.25.</p> - -<p class="pad1"><b>TAQUISARA.</b> Two volumes. 16mo. In box. $2.00.</p> - -<p class="pad1"><b>CASA BRACCIO.</b> With thirteen full-page illustrations from drawings -by <span class="smcap">Castaigne</span>. Buckram. Two volumes in box. $2.00.</p> - -<p class="pad1"><b>ADAM JOHNSTONE’S SON.</b> With twenty-four full-page illustrations -by <span class="smcap">A. Forestier</span>. 12mo. Cloth. $1.50.</p> - -<p class="pad1"><b>THE RALSTONS.</b> Two volumes. 16mo. Cloth. $2.00.</p> - -<hr class="d2" /> - -<p class="pc"><b>Uniform Edition of Mr. Crawford’s Other Novels.</b><br /> -12mo. Cloth. Price $1.00 each.</p> - -<p class="pad2 p1"><b>Katharine Lauderdale.</b><br /> -<b>Marion Darche.</b><br /> -<b>A Roman Singer.</b><br /> -<b>An American Politician.</b><br /> -<b>Paul Patoff.</b><br /> -<b>Marzio’s Crucifix.</b><br /> -<b>Saracinesca.</b><br /> -<b>A Tale of a Lonely Parish.</b><br /> -<b>Zoroaster.</b><br /> -<b>Dr. Claudius.</b><br /> -<b>Mr. Isaacs.</b><br /> -<b>Children of the King.</b><br /> -<b>Pietro Ghisleri.</b><br /> -<b>Don Orsino.</b> A Sequel to “Saracinesca,” and “Sant’Ilario.”<br /> -<b>The Three Fates.</b><br /> -<b>The Witch of Prague.</b><br /> -<b>Khaled.</b><br /> -<b>A Cigarette-Maker’s Romance.</b><br /> -<b>Sant’ Ilario.</b> A sequel to “Saracinesca.”<br /> -<b>Greifenstein.</b><br /> -<b>With the Immortals.</b><br /> -<b>To Leeward.</b></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pc4 elarge">ALFRED LORD TENNYSON.</p> - -<p class="pc large">A MEMOIR.</p> - -<p class="pc">BY</p> - -<p class="pc lmid">HIS SON.</p> - -<p class="pc1">8vo. Cloth. Two Vols. Price, $10.00, <i>net</i>.</p> - -<hr class="d2" /> - -<div class="pbq"> -<p>These volumes of over 500 pages each contain many letters written -or received by Lord Tennyson, to which no other biographer could -have had access, and in addition a large number of poems hitherto -unpublished.</p> - -<p>Several chapters are contributed by such of his friends as Dr. Jowett, -the Duke of Argyll, the late Earl of Selborne, Mr. Lecky, Professor -Francis T. Palgrave, Professor Tyndall, Mr. Aubrey de Vere, and -others, who thus express their personal recollections.</p> - -<p>There are many illustrations, engraved after pictures by Richard -Doyle, Samuel Lawrence, G. F. Watts, R.A., etc., in all about twenty -full-page portraits and other illustrations.</p></div> - -<p class="pc1 mid font2">COMMENTS.</p> - -<div class="pbq"> -<p class="p1">“The biography is easily the biography not only of the year, but of -the decade, and the story of the development of Tennyson’s intellect -and of his growth—whatever may be the varying opinions of his -exact rank among the greatest poets—into one of the few masters of -English verse, will be found full of thrilling interest, not only by the -critic and student of literature, but by the average reader.</p> - -<p class="pr2">”—<i>The New York Times.</i></p> - -<p>“Two salient points strike the reader of this memoir. One is that -it is uniformly fascinating, so rich in anecdote and marginalia as to -hold the attention with the power of a novel. In the next place, it -has been put together with consummate tact, if not with academic -art....</p> - -<p>“It is authoritative if ever a memoir was. But, we repeat, it has -suffered no harm from having been composed out of family love and -devotion. It is faultless in its dignity.</p> - -<p class="pr2">”—<i>The New York Tribune.</i></p></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pc4 elarge">THE LETTERS OF ELIZABETH<br /> -BARRETT BROWNING.</p> - -<p class="pc mid">EDITED WITH BIOGRAPHICAL ADDITIONS</p> - -<p class="pc1">BY</p> - -<p class="pc1 lmid"><b>FREDERICK G. KENYON.</b></p> - -<p class="pc1 reduct"><b>With portraits. In two volumes. Crown 8vo. $4.00.</b></p> - -<hr class="d2" /> - -<p class="pbq">Two medium octavo volumes, with portraits, etc. The earliest -correspondence quoted took place when the writer was a young -girl, and every period of her life is represented in these frank -and simple letters. She knew many interesting people, was in -Paris during the <i>coup d’état</i> in 1851, and lived in Florence during -years of great excitement in Italy. Among other pen-pictures -she gives one of the few English sketches we have of George -Sand, whom she met several times.</p> - -<hr class="d2" /> - -<div class="pbq"> - -<p>“The letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning are an interesting contribution -to the literature of literary correspondence and an agreeable -addition to the literature of literary biography.</p> - -<p class="pr2">”—<i>New York Mail and Express.</i></p> - -<p>“The Browning letters are admirably edited by Mr. Frederick C. -Kenyon, who holds them together with biographical notes which give -the book an additional value.</p> - -<p class="pr2">”—<i>Philadelphia Press.</i></p> - -<p>“Not since the publication of ’The Letters of Agassiz’ has there -been a nobler revelation of character in a biographical volume.</p> - -<p class="pr2">”—<i>Boston Evening Transcript.</i></p> - -<p>“The letters now presented to the public are precisely as they came -from the pen of the writer, and we are reminded that it is Mrs. Browning’s -character, and not her genius, which is delineated in these valuable -contributions to literature....”</p> - -<p class="pr2">—<i>New York Commercial Advertiser.</i></p></div> - -<hr class="d2" /> - -<p class="pc lmid">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY,</p> - -<p class="pc reduct">66 Fifth Avenue, New York.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<div class="transnote p4"> -<p class="pc large">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:</p> -<p class="ptn">—Obvious errors were corrected.</p> -<p class="ptn">—A Table of Contents was not in the original work; one has been - produced and added by Transcriber.</p> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRIDE OF JENNICO***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 51238-h.htm or 51238-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/1/2/3/51238">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/2/3/51238</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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. 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