The Puppet Crown [132]
smoothed his beard, formed his lips into words, but did not utter them, and glanced slyly from the corner of his eye at the Marshal, who was intent on the enemy's approach. Maurice was trying with naked eye to pierce the forest and the rolling ground beyond, and waiting for the roar of the guns.
Orders had been issued for the gunners to get the range and commence firing; but as the gunners seemed over long in getting down to work, Maurice gazed around impatiently. The blood rushed into his heart. For this is what he saw: the infantry leaning indolently on their guns, their officers snipping the grasses with their swords; the cuirassiers hidden in the bulk of the native cavalry; artillerymen seated carelessly on the caissons, and the gunners smoking and leaning against the guns. All action was gone, as if by magic; nothing but a strange tableau remained! Moreover, a troop of native cavalry, which, for no apparent reason, had not joined the main body, had closed in on the general staff. Appalled by a sudden thought, Maurice touched the prince, who lowered his glasses and turned his head. Bewilderment widened his eyes, and the flush on his cheeks died away. He, too, saw.
"Devil's name!" the Marshal burst forth, "why don't the blockheads shoot? The enemy--" He stopped, his chin fell, for, as he turned, a single glance explained all to him. The red on his face changed into a sickly purple, and the glasses slipped from his hands and broke into pieces on the stony ground.
"Marshal," began General Kronau, "I respect your age and valiant services. That is why we have come thirteen miles. You may keep your sword, and also Monsieur the prince. For the present you are prisoners."
For a moment the Marshal was stupefied. His secret fears had been realized. Suddenly a hoarse oath issued from his lips, he dragged his saber from the scabbard, raised it and made a terrible sweep at the General. But the stroke fell on a dozen intervening blades, and the Marshal's arms were held and forced to his sides.
"Kronau . . . you?" he roared. "Betrayed! You despicable coward and traitor! You--" But speech forsook him, and he would have fallen from the horse but for those who held his arms.
"Traitor?" echoed Kronau, coolly. "To what and to whom? I am serving my true and legitimate sovereign. I am also serving humanity, since this battle is to be bloodless. It is you who are the traitor. You swore allegiance to the duke, and that allegiance is the inheritance of the daughter. How have you kept your oath?"
But the Marshal was incapable of answer. One looking at him would have said that he was suffering from a stroke of apoplexy.
"I admit," went on the General, not wholly unembarrassed, "that the part I play is not an agreeable one to me, but it is preferable to the needless loss of human life. The duchess was to have entered Bleiberg at night, to save us this present dishonor, if you persist in calling it such. But his Highness, who is young, and Monseigneur the archbishop, who dreams of Richelieu, made it impossible. No harm is intended to any one."
The prince, white and shivering as if with ague, broke his sword on the pommel of the saddle and hurled the pieces at Kronau, who permitted them to strike him.
"God's witness," the prince cried furiously, "but your victory shall be short-lived. I have an army, trusty to the last sword, and you shall feel the length of its arm within forty-eight hours."
"Perhaps," said Kronau, shrugging.
"It is already on the way."
"Your Highness forgets that Carnavia belongs to the confederation, and that the king, your father, dare not send you troops without the consent of the emperor, which, believe me, will never be given;" and he urged his horse down the slope.
The army of the duchess had now gained the open. The advance was composed of cavalry, which came along the road with wings on either side, and with great dash and splendor.
A noisy cheer arose, to be faintly echoed by the oncoming avalanche of white horses and dazzling
Orders had been issued for the gunners to get the range and commence firing; but as the gunners seemed over long in getting down to work, Maurice gazed around impatiently. The blood rushed into his heart. For this is what he saw: the infantry leaning indolently on their guns, their officers snipping the grasses with their swords; the cuirassiers hidden in the bulk of the native cavalry; artillerymen seated carelessly on the caissons, and the gunners smoking and leaning against the guns. All action was gone, as if by magic; nothing but a strange tableau remained! Moreover, a troop of native cavalry, which, for no apparent reason, had not joined the main body, had closed in on the general staff. Appalled by a sudden thought, Maurice touched the prince, who lowered his glasses and turned his head. Bewilderment widened his eyes, and the flush on his cheeks died away. He, too, saw.
"Devil's name!" the Marshal burst forth, "why don't the blockheads shoot? The enemy--" He stopped, his chin fell, for, as he turned, a single glance explained all to him. The red on his face changed into a sickly purple, and the glasses slipped from his hands and broke into pieces on the stony ground.
"Marshal," began General Kronau, "I respect your age and valiant services. That is why we have come thirteen miles. You may keep your sword, and also Monsieur the prince. For the present you are prisoners."
For a moment the Marshal was stupefied. His secret fears had been realized. Suddenly a hoarse oath issued from his lips, he dragged his saber from the scabbard, raised it and made a terrible sweep at the General. But the stroke fell on a dozen intervening blades, and the Marshal's arms were held and forced to his sides.
"Kronau . . . you?" he roared. "Betrayed! You despicable coward and traitor! You--" But speech forsook him, and he would have fallen from the horse but for those who held his arms.
"Traitor?" echoed Kronau, coolly. "To what and to whom? I am serving my true and legitimate sovereign. I am also serving humanity, since this battle is to be bloodless. It is you who are the traitor. You swore allegiance to the duke, and that allegiance is the inheritance of the daughter. How have you kept your oath?"
But the Marshal was incapable of answer. One looking at him would have said that he was suffering from a stroke of apoplexy.
"I admit," went on the General, not wholly unembarrassed, "that the part I play is not an agreeable one to me, but it is preferable to the needless loss of human life. The duchess was to have entered Bleiberg at night, to save us this present dishonor, if you persist in calling it such. But his Highness, who is young, and Monseigneur the archbishop, who dreams of Richelieu, made it impossible. No harm is intended to any one."
The prince, white and shivering as if with ague, broke his sword on the pommel of the saddle and hurled the pieces at Kronau, who permitted them to strike him.
"God's witness," the prince cried furiously, "but your victory shall be short-lived. I have an army, trusty to the last sword, and you shall feel the length of its arm within forty-eight hours."
"Perhaps," said Kronau, shrugging.
"It is already on the way."
"Your Highness forgets that Carnavia belongs to the confederation, and that the king, your father, dare not send you troops without the consent of the emperor, which, believe me, will never be given;" and he urged his horse down the slope.
The army of the duchess had now gained the open. The advance was composed of cavalry, which came along the road with wings on either side, and with great dash and splendor.
A noisy cheer arose, to be faintly echoed by the oncoming avalanche of white horses and dazzling