The Puppet Crown [131]
Madame's chateau in the guise of a conqueror was a most engaging thought. She had humbled his self-love, now to humble hers! He no longer bothered himself about Beauvais, whose case he had placed in the hands of the Austrian ambassador.
Gay and debonair he rode that late September afternoon. No man around him had so clear an eye nor so constant a vivacity. Since he had nothing but his life to lose, he had no fear. Let the theater be full of light while the play lasted, and let the curtain fall to a round of huzzas! For a few short hours ago he had kissed a woman's hand and had looked into her sad brown eyes. "Why you do this I do not know, nor shall I ask. Monsieur, my prayers go with you." Was not that an amulet? His diplomatic career! He fell to whistling.
"Ah! que j'aime les militaires!"
More than once the prince felt the sting of envy in his heart at the sight of this embodiment of supreme nonchalance. It spoke of a healthy salt in the veins, a salt such as kings themselves can not always boast of. A foreigner, a republican? No matter; a gallant man.
"Monsieur," he said impulsively, "you shall always possess my friendship, once we are well out of this."
"Thanks, your Highness," replied Maurice, and laughing; "the after-thought is timely!"
The sun lay close to the western rim of hills; an opal sky encompassed the earth; the air was balmy.
"The French call this St. Martin's summer," said Maurice. "In my country we call it Indian summer--ah!" lifting in his stirrups.
The army was approaching a hill, when suddenly a whirlwind of dust rolled over the summit, and immediately a reconnoitering patrol came dashing into view, waving their sabers aloft. . . . The enemy was less than a mile away, and advancing rapidly.
To anticipate. Madame the duchess had indeed contemplated striking the blow at night. That morning, like the brave Amazon she was, she had pitched her tent in the midst of her army, to marshal and direct its forces. It was her intention to be among the first to enter Bleiberg; for she was a soldier's daughter, and could master the inherent fears of her sex.
That same morning a woman entered the lines and demanded an audience. What passed between her and Madame the duchess others never knew. She had also been apprised of the prisoners' escape, but, confident that they would not be able to make a crossing, she disdained pursuit. The prince had missed his wedding day; he was no longer of use to her. As to the American, he would become lost, and that would be the end of him.
But the Englishman. . . . He was conscience eternally barking at her heels. The memory of that kiss still rankled in her mind, and not an hour went by in which she did not chide herself for the folly. How to get rid of him perplexed her. Here he was, in the uniform of a Lieutenant-Colonel, ready to go to any lengths at a sign from her. There was something in her heart which she had not yet analyzed. First of all, her crown; as to her heart, there was plenty of time in which to study that peculiar and unstable organ. The possibility of the prince's arriving in Bleiberg before her in no way disturbed her. Whenever her attack was made, failure would not attend it. She broke camp at two o'clock and took the road leisurely toward Bleiberg.
Thus, the two armies faced each other comparatively in the open. A battle hung in the air.
The king's forces came to an abrupt halt. Orderlies dashed to and fro. The artillery came rumbling and creaking to the front, wheeled, the guns unlimbered and ranged so as to enfilade the road. The infantry deployed to right and left while the cavalry swung into position on the flanks. All this was accomplished with the equanimity of dress parade. Maurice could not control his admiration. Madame, he thought, might win her crown, but at a pretty cost.
The Marshal and the staff posted themselves on the right breast of the hill, from whence, by the aid of binoculars, they could see the enemy. From time to time General Kronau nervously
Gay and debonair he rode that late September afternoon. No man around him had so clear an eye nor so constant a vivacity. Since he had nothing but his life to lose, he had no fear. Let the theater be full of light while the play lasted, and let the curtain fall to a round of huzzas! For a few short hours ago he had kissed a woman's hand and had looked into her sad brown eyes. "Why you do this I do not know, nor shall I ask. Monsieur, my prayers go with you." Was not that an amulet? His diplomatic career! He fell to whistling.
"Ah! que j'aime les militaires!"
More than once the prince felt the sting of envy in his heart at the sight of this embodiment of supreme nonchalance. It spoke of a healthy salt in the veins, a salt such as kings themselves can not always boast of. A foreigner, a republican? No matter; a gallant man.
"Monsieur," he said impulsively, "you shall always possess my friendship, once we are well out of this."
"Thanks, your Highness," replied Maurice, and laughing; "the after-thought is timely!"
The sun lay close to the western rim of hills; an opal sky encompassed the earth; the air was balmy.
"The French call this St. Martin's summer," said Maurice. "In my country we call it Indian summer--ah!" lifting in his stirrups.
The army was approaching a hill, when suddenly a whirlwind of dust rolled over the summit, and immediately a reconnoitering patrol came dashing into view, waving their sabers aloft. . . . The enemy was less than a mile away, and advancing rapidly.
To anticipate. Madame the duchess had indeed contemplated striking the blow at night. That morning, like the brave Amazon she was, she had pitched her tent in the midst of her army, to marshal and direct its forces. It was her intention to be among the first to enter Bleiberg; for she was a soldier's daughter, and could master the inherent fears of her sex.
That same morning a woman entered the lines and demanded an audience. What passed between her and Madame the duchess others never knew. She had also been apprised of the prisoners' escape, but, confident that they would not be able to make a crossing, she disdained pursuit. The prince had missed his wedding day; he was no longer of use to her. As to the American, he would become lost, and that would be the end of him.
But the Englishman. . . . He was conscience eternally barking at her heels. The memory of that kiss still rankled in her mind, and not an hour went by in which she did not chide herself for the folly. How to get rid of him perplexed her. Here he was, in the uniform of a Lieutenant-Colonel, ready to go to any lengths at a sign from her. There was something in her heart which she had not yet analyzed. First of all, her crown; as to her heart, there was plenty of time in which to study that peculiar and unstable organ. The possibility of the prince's arriving in Bleiberg before her in no way disturbed her. Whenever her attack was made, failure would not attend it. She broke camp at two o'clock and took the road leisurely toward Bleiberg.
Thus, the two armies faced each other comparatively in the open. A battle hung in the air.
The king's forces came to an abrupt halt. Orderlies dashed to and fro. The artillery came rumbling and creaking to the front, wheeled, the guns unlimbered and ranged so as to enfilade the road. The infantry deployed to right and left while the cavalry swung into position on the flanks. All this was accomplished with the equanimity of dress parade. Maurice could not control his admiration. Madame, he thought, might win her crown, but at a pretty cost.
The Marshal and the staff posted themselves on the right breast of the hill, from whence, by the aid of binoculars, they could see the enemy. From time to time General Kronau nervously