The Puppet Crown [54]
"it is time I made a play."
The blackberries were ripe along the stone walls which surrounded the chateau. Maurice wandered here and there, plucking what fruit he could find. Now and then he would offer a branch to Madame. At length, as though by previous arrangement with Madame, the countess led Fitzgerald around to the other side of the chateau, so that Madame and Maurice were alone. Immediately the smile, which had rested on her lips, vanished. Her companion was gazing mountainward, and cogitating. How fared those in Bleiberg?
"What a beautiful world it is!" said a low, soft voice close to his ear.
Maurice resumed his berry picking.
"What exquisite tints in the skies!" went on the voice; "what matchless color in the forests!"
Maurice plucked a berry, ate it, and smacked his lips. It was a good berry.
"But what a terrible thing it would be if one should die suddenly, or be thrown into a windowless dungeon, shut out from all these splendid reaches?"
Maurice plucked another berry, but he did not eat it. Instinctively he turned--and met a pair of eyes as hard and cold and gray as new steel.
"That," said he, "sounds like a threat."
"And if it were, Monsieur, and if it were?"
"If it were, I should say that you had discovered that I know too much. I suspected from the first; the picture merely confirmed my suspicions. I see now that it was thoughtless in me not to have told my friend; but it is not too late."
"And why, I ask, have I not suppressed you before this?"
"Till to-day, Madame, you had not given me your particular consideration." Then, as if the conversation was not interesting him, he returned to the berries. "There's a fine one there. It's a little high; but then!" He tiptoed, drew the branch from the wall, and snatched the luscious fruit. "Ah!"
"Monsieur, attend to me; the berries can wait."
"Madame, the life of a good blackberry is short."
"To begin with, you say that I did not show you consideration. Few princes have been shown like consideration."
"I was wrong. It is not every man that has a countess--and a pretty one, too!--thrown at his head."
Madame was temporarily silenced by this retort; it upset her calculations. She scrutinized the clean, smooth face, and she saw lines which had hitherto escaped her notice. She was at last convinced that she had to contend with a man, a man who had dealt with both men and women. How deep was he? Could honors, such as she could give, and money plumb the depths? . . . He was an American. She smiled the smile of duplicity.
"Monsieur," she said, "do you lack wealth?"
"Yes, I lack it; but that is not to say that I desire it."
"Perhaps it is honors you desire?"
"Honors? To what greater honor may I aspire than that which is written in my passports?"
"What is written in your passports?"
"That I am a citizen of the United States of America. It would not be good taste in me to accept honors save those that my country may choose to confer."
Again Madame found her foil turned aside. She began to lose patience. Her boot patted the sod. "Monsieur, since the countess is not high enough, since gold and honors have no charm, listen."
"I am listening, Madame."
"I permit you to witness the comic opera, but I shall allow no prompting from outsiders."
"Madame, do you expect me to sit calmly by and see my friend made a fool?" He spoke warmly and his eyes remained steadfast.
"Certainly that is what you shall do," coldly.
"Madame, you are a beautiful woman; heaven has endowed you with something more than beauty. Is it possible that the gods forgot to mix conscience in the mold?"
"Conscience? Royalty knows none."
"Ah, Madame, wait till you are royal."
"Take care. You have not felt my anger."
"I would rather that than your love."
She marveled at her patience.
"If you have no conscience, Madame, I have. I shall warn him. You shall not dishonor him if I can prevent it. You wish to win his love, and you have gauged the possibilities of it so accurately that
The blackberries were ripe along the stone walls which surrounded the chateau. Maurice wandered here and there, plucking what fruit he could find. Now and then he would offer a branch to Madame. At length, as though by previous arrangement with Madame, the countess led Fitzgerald around to the other side of the chateau, so that Madame and Maurice were alone. Immediately the smile, which had rested on her lips, vanished. Her companion was gazing mountainward, and cogitating. How fared those in Bleiberg?
"What a beautiful world it is!" said a low, soft voice close to his ear.
Maurice resumed his berry picking.
"What exquisite tints in the skies!" went on the voice; "what matchless color in the forests!"
Maurice plucked a berry, ate it, and smacked his lips. It was a good berry.
"But what a terrible thing it would be if one should die suddenly, or be thrown into a windowless dungeon, shut out from all these splendid reaches?"
Maurice plucked another berry, but he did not eat it. Instinctively he turned--and met a pair of eyes as hard and cold and gray as new steel.
"That," said he, "sounds like a threat."
"And if it were, Monsieur, and if it were?"
"If it were, I should say that you had discovered that I know too much. I suspected from the first; the picture merely confirmed my suspicions. I see now that it was thoughtless in me not to have told my friend; but it is not too late."
"And why, I ask, have I not suppressed you before this?"
"Till to-day, Madame, you had not given me your particular consideration." Then, as if the conversation was not interesting him, he returned to the berries. "There's a fine one there. It's a little high; but then!" He tiptoed, drew the branch from the wall, and snatched the luscious fruit. "Ah!"
"Monsieur, attend to me; the berries can wait."
"Madame, the life of a good blackberry is short."
"To begin with, you say that I did not show you consideration. Few princes have been shown like consideration."
"I was wrong. It is not every man that has a countess--and a pretty one, too!--thrown at his head."
Madame was temporarily silenced by this retort; it upset her calculations. She scrutinized the clean, smooth face, and she saw lines which had hitherto escaped her notice. She was at last convinced that she had to contend with a man, a man who had dealt with both men and women. How deep was he? Could honors, such as she could give, and money plumb the depths? . . . He was an American. She smiled the smile of duplicity.
"Monsieur," she said, "do you lack wealth?"
"Yes, I lack it; but that is not to say that I desire it."
"Perhaps it is honors you desire?"
"Honors? To what greater honor may I aspire than that which is written in my passports?"
"What is written in your passports?"
"That I am a citizen of the United States of America. It would not be good taste in me to accept honors save those that my country may choose to confer."
Again Madame found her foil turned aside. She began to lose patience. Her boot patted the sod. "Monsieur, since the countess is not high enough, since gold and honors have no charm, listen."
"I am listening, Madame."
"I permit you to witness the comic opera, but I shall allow no prompting from outsiders."
"Madame, do you expect me to sit calmly by and see my friend made a fool?" He spoke warmly and his eyes remained steadfast.
"Certainly that is what you shall do," coldly.
"Madame, you are a beautiful woman; heaven has endowed you with something more than beauty. Is it possible that the gods forgot to mix conscience in the mold?"
"Conscience? Royalty knows none."
"Ah, Madame, wait till you are royal."
"Take care. You have not felt my anger."
"I would rather that than your love."
She marveled at her patience.
"If you have no conscience, Madame, I have. I shall warn him. You shall not dishonor him if I can prevent it. You wish to win his love, and you have gauged the possibilities of it so accurately that