The Puppet Crown [127]
head bared to the chill wind. She heeded not their challenge; it was a question whether or not she heard it. They stood watching her until she and her horse dwindled into a mere moving speck, finally to become lost altogether in a crook of the road.
"I should like to know what that means," said Maurice.
"It is very strange," the prince said, musingly. "I have seen that woman before. She is one of the dancers at the opera."
"Mayhap she has a lover on the other side."
"Mayhap. Let us be on. There's the sun, and we are a good thirteen miles away!" and the prince slapped the neck of his horse, which bounded forward.
This tiring pace they maintained until they mounted the hill from which they could see the glittering spires of the city, and the Werter See as it flashed back the sunlight.
"Bleiberg!" Maurice waved his hand.
"Thanks to you, that I look on it."
It was ten o'clock when they passed under the city gates.
"Monsieur, will you go with me to the palace?" asked the prince.
"If your Highness will excuse me," said Maurice; "no, I should be in the way; and besides I am dead for want of sleep."
"I shall never sleep," grumbled the prince, "till I have humbled that woman. And you? Have you no rankle in your heart? Have you no desire to witness that woman's humiliation?"
"Your Highness, I belong to a foreign country."
"No matter; be my aide. Come; I offer you a complete revenge for the treatment you have received at Madame's hands. Your government shall never know."
Maurice studied the mane of his horse. Suddenly he made a gesture. This gesture consigned to the four winds his diplomatic career. "I accept," he said. "You will find me at the Continental. I confess that I have no love for this woman. She has robbed me of no little conceit."
"To the palace, then; to the palace! And this hour to-morrow we, you and I, will drink to her Royal Highness at the Red Chateau. To the palace!"
Up the Strasse they raced, through the lower town to the upper, and down the broad asphalt to the palace gates. The prince rushed his horse to the very bars and shook them in his wild impatience.
"Ho! open, open!" he called.
Several cuirassiers lounged about. At the sight of these two hatless, bedraggled men storming the gates, they ran forward with drawn swords and angry cries. Lieutenant Scharfenstein was among them. At second glance he recognized Maurice, who hailed him.
"Open, Lieutenant," he cried; "it is his Highness, Prince Frederick!"
The bars came down, the gates swung in.
"Go and sleep," said the prince to Maurice; "I will send an orderly for you when the time comes." And with this he dashed up the driveway to the main entrance of the palace, leaped from his horse and disappeared.
Maurice wheeled and drove leisurely to the Continental, leaving the amazed cuirassiers gaping after him. He experienced that exuberance of spirits which always comes with a delightful day dream. He forgot his weariness, his bruises. To mingle directly in the affairs of kings and princes, to be a factor among factors who surround and uphold thrones, seemed so at variance with his republican learning that he was not sure that all this was not one long dream--Fitzgerald and his consols, the meeting with the princess, the adventures at Madame's chateau, the duel with Beauvais, the last night's flight with the prince across the mountains! Yes; he had fallen asleep somewhere and had been whisked away into a kind of fairyland. Every one was in trouble just now, as they always are in certain chapters of fairy tales, but all would end happily, and then--he would wake.
Meanwhile the prince entered the palace and was proceeding up the grand corridor, when a bared sword stayed his progress.
"Monsieur," said von Mitter, "you have lost your way. You can not enter here."
"I?" a haughty, threatening expression on his pale face. "Are you sure?"
Von Mitter fell back against the wall and all but lost hold of his saber. "Your Highness?" he gasped, overcome.
"I should like to know what that means," said Maurice.
"It is very strange," the prince said, musingly. "I have seen that woman before. She is one of the dancers at the opera."
"Mayhap she has a lover on the other side."
"Mayhap. Let us be on. There's the sun, and we are a good thirteen miles away!" and the prince slapped the neck of his horse, which bounded forward.
This tiring pace they maintained until they mounted the hill from which they could see the glittering spires of the city, and the Werter See as it flashed back the sunlight.
"Bleiberg!" Maurice waved his hand.
"Thanks to you, that I look on it."
It was ten o'clock when they passed under the city gates.
"Monsieur, will you go with me to the palace?" asked the prince.
"If your Highness will excuse me," said Maurice; "no, I should be in the way; and besides I am dead for want of sleep."
"I shall never sleep," grumbled the prince, "till I have humbled that woman. And you? Have you no rankle in your heart? Have you no desire to witness that woman's humiliation?"
"Your Highness, I belong to a foreign country."
"No matter; be my aide. Come; I offer you a complete revenge for the treatment you have received at Madame's hands. Your government shall never know."
Maurice studied the mane of his horse. Suddenly he made a gesture. This gesture consigned to the four winds his diplomatic career. "I accept," he said. "You will find me at the Continental. I confess that I have no love for this woman. She has robbed me of no little conceit."
"To the palace, then; to the palace! And this hour to-morrow we, you and I, will drink to her Royal Highness at the Red Chateau. To the palace!"
Up the Strasse they raced, through the lower town to the upper, and down the broad asphalt to the palace gates. The prince rushed his horse to the very bars and shook them in his wild impatience.
"Ho! open, open!" he called.
Several cuirassiers lounged about. At the sight of these two hatless, bedraggled men storming the gates, they ran forward with drawn swords and angry cries. Lieutenant Scharfenstein was among them. At second glance he recognized Maurice, who hailed him.
"Open, Lieutenant," he cried; "it is his Highness, Prince Frederick!"
The bars came down, the gates swung in.
"Go and sleep," said the prince to Maurice; "I will send an orderly for you when the time comes." And with this he dashed up the driveway to the main entrance of the palace, leaped from his horse and disappeared.
Maurice wheeled and drove leisurely to the Continental, leaving the amazed cuirassiers gaping after him. He experienced that exuberance of spirits which always comes with a delightful day dream. He forgot his weariness, his bruises. To mingle directly in the affairs of kings and princes, to be a factor among factors who surround and uphold thrones, seemed so at variance with his republican learning that he was not sure that all this was not one long dream--Fitzgerald and his consols, the meeting with the princess, the adventures at Madame's chateau, the duel with Beauvais, the last night's flight with the prince across the mountains! Yes; he had fallen asleep somewhere and had been whisked away into a kind of fairyland. Every one was in trouble just now, as they always are in certain chapters of fairy tales, but all would end happily, and then--he would wake.
Meanwhile the prince entered the palace and was proceeding up the grand corridor, when a bared sword stayed his progress.
"Monsieur," said von Mitter, "you have lost your way. You can not enter here."
"I?" a haughty, threatening expression on his pale face. "Are you sure?"
Von Mitter fell back against the wall and all but lost hold of his saber. "Your Highness?" he gasped, overcome.