HAROLD MacGRATH
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN
 
 MAURICE THRUST AND THE BLADE WENT TRUE
 
 THE PUPPET 
 CROWN 
 
 BY 
 
 HAROLD MAC GRATH 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE GREY CLOAK," "THE MAN 
 ON THE BOX," ETC.
 
 COPYRIGHT 1900 
 BY HAROLD MACGRATH 
 
 COPYRIGHT 1901 
 BY THE BOWEN-MEKKILL COMPANY 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNWORTH &. CO. 
 
 BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y.
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF THAT GOOD FRIEND 
 
 AND 
 
 COMRADE OF MY YOUTH 
 MY FATHER 
 
 2226215
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. THE SCEPTER WHICH WAS A STICK 1 
 
 II. THE COUP D'ETAT OF COUSIN JOSEF 14 
 
 III. AN EPISODE TEX YEARS AFTER 28 
 
 IV. Ax ADVEXTURE WITH EOYALTY 48 
 
 V. BEHIND THE PUPPET BOOTH 64 
 
 VI. MADEMOISELLE OF THE VEIL 81 
 
 VII. SOME DIALOGUE, A SPRAINED ANKLE, 
 
 AND SOME SOLDIERS 98 
 
 VIII. THE RED CHATEAU 114 
 
 IX. NOTHING MORE SERIOUS THAN A 
 
 HOUSE PARTY 128 
 
 X. BEING OF LONG RIDES, MAIDS, KISSES 
 
 A.VD MESSAGES 146 
 
 XI. THE DENOUEMENT 162 
 
 XII. WHOM THE GODS DESTROY AND A 
 
 FEW OTHERS 174
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 XIII. BEING OF COMPLICATIONS NOT BECK- 
 ONED ON 190 
 XIV. Qui M'AiME, AIME MON CHIEN 206 
 XV. IN WHICH FORTUNE BECOMES CARE- 
 LESS AND PRODIGAL 227 
 XVI. WHAT HAPPENED AT THE ARCH- 
 BISHOP'S PALACE AND AFTER 244 
 XVII. SOME PASSAGES AT ARMS 268 
 XVIII. A MINOR CHORD AND A CHANGE OF 
 
 MOVEMENT 279 
 
 XIX. A CHANCE RIDE IN THE NIGHT 292 
 
 XX. THE LAST STAND OF A BAD SERVANT 307 
 
 XXI. A COURT FETE AT THE RED CHATEAU 324 
 
 XXII. IN WHICH MAURICE RECURS TO 
 
 OFFENBACH 337 
 
 XXIII. A GAME OF POKER AND THE STAKES 350 
 
 XXIV. THE PRISONER OF THE RED CHATEAU 363 
 XXV. THE FORTUNES OF WAR 383 
 
 XXVI. A PAGE FROM TASSO 397 
 
 XXVII. WORMWOOD AND LEES 413 
 
 XXVIII. INTO THE HANDS OF AUSTRIA 422 
 
 XXIX. INTO STILL WATERS AND SILENCE 431
 
 Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire 
 To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire 
 Would not we shatter it to bits and then 
 Re-mold it nearer to the Heart's desire! 
 
 RDBAIYAT OF OMAE KHAYYAM.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 CHAPTEK I 
 
 THE SCEPTER WHICH WAS A STICK 
 
 The king sat in his private garden in the shade 
 of a potted orange tree, the leaves of which were 
 splashed with brilliant yellow. It was high noon 
 of one of those last warm sighs of passing sum- 
 mer which now and then lovingly steal in between 
 the chill breaths of September. The velvet^ hush 
 of the mid-day hour had fallen. 
 
 There was an endless horizon of turquoise blue, a 
 zenith pellucid as glass. The trees stood motionless ; 
 not a shadow stirred, save that which was cast by the 
 tremulous wings of a black and purple butterfly, 
 which, near to his Majesty, fell, rose and sank again. 
 From a drove of wild bees, swimming hither and 
 thither in quest of the final sweets of the year, came 
 a low murmurous hum, such as a man sometimes 
 fancies he hears while standing alone in the vast 
 auditorium of a cathedral. 
 
 The king, from where he sat, could see the ivy-clad 
 towers of the archbishop's palace, where, in and about 
 the narrow windows, gray and white doves fluttered
 
 4 TH PUPPET CROTVX 
 
 and plumed themselves. The garden sloped gently 
 downward till it merged into a beautiful lake called 
 the Werter See, which, stretching out several miles 
 to the west, in the heart of the thick-wooded hills, 
 trembled like a thin sheet of silver. 
 
 Toward the south, far away, lay the dim, uneven 
 blue line of the Thalian Alps, which separated the 
 kingdom that was from the duchy that is, and the 
 duke from his desires. More than once the king 
 leveled his gaze in that direction, as if to fathom 
 what lay behind those lordly rugged hills. 
 
 There was in the air the delicate odor of the 
 deciduous leaves which, every little while, the 
 king inhaled, his eyes half-closed and his nostrils 
 distended. Save for these brief moments, how- 
 ever, there rested on his countenance an expres- 
 sion of disenchantment which came of the knowl- 
 edge of a part ill-played, an expression which de- 
 scribed a consciousness of his unfitness and in- 
 utility, of lethargy and weariness and distaste. 
 
 To be weary is the lot of kings, it is a part of 
 their royal prerogative; but it is only a great king 
 who can be weary gracefully. And Leopold was 
 not a great king; indeed, he was many inches 
 short of the ideal; but he was philosophical, and 
 by the process of reason he escaped the pitfalls 
 which lurk in the path of peevishness. 
 
 To know the smallness of the human atom, the 
 limit of desire, the existence of other lives as precious 
 as their own, is not the philosophy which makes 
 great kings. Philosophy engenders pity; and one 
 who possesses that can not ride roughshod over men, 
 and that is the business of kings.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 3 
 
 As for Leopold, he would rather have wandered the 
 byways of Kant than studied royal etiquette. A 
 crown had been thrust on his head and a scepter into 
 his hand, and, willy-nilly, he must wear the one and 
 wield the other. The confederation had determined 
 the matter shortly before the Franco-Prussian war. 
 
 The kingdom that was, an admixture of old France 
 and newer Austria, was a gateway which opened 
 the road to the Orient, and a gateman must be 
 placed there who would be obedient to the will 
 of the great travelers, were they minded to pass 
 that way. That is to say, the confederation 
 wanted a puppet, and in Leopold they found a 
 dreamer, which served as well. That glittering 
 bait, a crown, had lured him from his peaceful 
 Osian hills and valleys, and now he found that 
 his crown was of straw and his scepter a stick. 
 
 He longed to turn back, for his heart lay in a 
 tomb close to his castle keep, but the way back 
 was closed. He had sold his birthright. So he 
 permitted his ministers to rule his kingdom how 
 they would, and gave himself up to dreams. He 
 had been but a cousin of the late king, whereas 
 the duke of the duchy that is had been a brother. 
 But cousin Josef was possessed of red hair and 
 a temper which was redder still, and, moreover, 
 a superlative will, bending to none, and laughing 
 at those who tried to bend him. 
 
 He would have been a king to the tip of his fiery 
 hair, and it was for this very reason that his subse- 
 quent appeals for justice and his rights fell on 
 unheeding ears. The confederation feared Josef; 
 therefore they dispossessed him. Thus Leopold sat
 
 4 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 on the throne, while his Highness bit his nails and 
 swore, impotent to all appearances. 
 
 Leopold leaned forward from his seat. In his 
 hand he held a riding stick with which he drew 
 shapeless pictures in the yellow gravel of the path. 
 His brows were drawn over contemplative eyes, 
 and the hint of a sour smile lifted the corners of 
 his lips. Presently the brows relaxed, and his 
 gaze traveled to the opposite side of the path, 
 where the British minister sat in the full glare 
 of the sun. 
 
 In the middle of the path, as rigid as a block of 
 white marble, reposed a young bull-dog, his moist 
 black nose quivering under the repeated attacks of 
 a persistent insect. It occurred to the king that 
 there was a resemblance between the dog and his mas- 
 ter, the Englishman. The same heavy jaws were 
 there, the same fearless eyes, the same indomitable 
 courage for the prosecution of a purpose. 
 
 A momentary regret passed through him that he 
 had not been turned from a like mold. Next his 
 gaze shifted to the end of the path, where a young 
 Lieutenant stood idly kicking pebbles, his cuirass 
 flaming in the dazzling sunshine. Soon the draw- 
 ing in the gravel was resumed. 
 
 The British minister made little of the three- 
 score years which were closing in on him, after 
 the manner of an army besieging a citadel. He 
 was full of animal exuberance, and his eyes, a trifle 
 faded, it must be admitted, were still keenly alive 
 and observant. He was big of bone, florid of skin, 
 and his hair wliat remained of it was wiry and 
 bleached. His clothes, possibly cut from an old
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 5 
 
 measure, hung loosely about the girth a sign that 
 time had taken its tithe. For thirty-five years he 
 had served his country by cunning speeches and 
 bursts of fine oratory; he had wandered over the 
 globe, lulling suspicions here and arousing them 
 there, a prince of the art of diplomacy. 
 
 He had not been sent here to watch this kingdom. 
 He was touching a deeper undercurrent, which be- 
 gan at St. Petersburg and moved toward Central 
 Asia, Turkey and India, sullenly and irresistibly. 
 And now his task was done, and another was to take 
 his place, to be a puppet among puppets. He feared 
 no man save his valet, who knew his one weakness, 
 the love of a son on whom he had shut his door, which 
 pride forbade him to open. This son had chosen the 
 army, when a fine diplomatic career had been 
 planned a small thing, but it sufficed. Even now a 
 word from an humbled pride would have reunited 
 father and son, but both refused to speak this word. 
 
 The diplomat in turn watched the king as he 
 engaged in the aimless drawing. His meditation 
 grew retrospective, and his thoughts ran back to 
 the days when he first befriended this lonely prince, 
 who had come to England to learn the language 
 and manners of the chill islanders. He had been 
 handsome enough in those days, this Leopold of 
 Osia, gay and eager, possessing an indefinable charm 
 which endeared him to women and made him re- 
 spected of men. To have known him then, the 
 wildest stretch of fancy would never have placed 
 him on this puppet throne, surrounded by enemies, 
 menaced by his adopted people, rudderless and igno- 
 rant of statecraft.
 
 6 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 "Fate is the cup," the diplomat mused, "and the 
 human life the ball, and it's toss, toss, toss, till the 
 ball slips and falls into eternity." Aloud he said, 
 "Your Majesty seems to be well occupied." 
 
 "Yes," replied the king, smiling. "I am mak- 
 ing crowns and scratching them out again 
 usurping the gentle pastime of their most Chris- 
 tian Majesties, the confederation. A pretty bauble 
 is a crown, indeed at a distance. It is a fine 
 thing to wear one in a dream. But to possess 
 one in the real, and to wear it day by day with 
 the eternal fear of laying it down and forgetting 
 where you put it, or that others plot to steal it, 
 or that you wear it dishonestly Well, well, there are 
 worse things than a beggar's crust." 
 
 "No one is honest in this world, save the 
 brute," said the diplomat, touching the dog with 
 his foot. "Honesty is instinctive with him, for 
 he knows no written laws. The gold we use is 
 stamped with dishonesty, notwithstanding the 
 beautiful mottoes; and so long as we barter and 
 sell for it, just so long we remain dishonest. 
 Yes, you wear your crown dishonestly but law- 
 fully, which is a nice distinction. But is any 
 crown worn honestly? If it is not bought with 
 gold, it is bought with lies and blood. Sire, your 
 great fault, if I may speak, is that you haven't 
 continued to be dishonest. You should have filled 
 your private coffers, but you have not done so, 
 which is a strange precedent to establish. You 
 should have increased taxation, but you have di- 
 minished it; you should have forced your enemy's 
 hand four years ago, when you ascended the
 
 THE PUPPET GROWN 7 
 
 throne, but you did not; and now, for all you 
 know, his hand may be too strong. Poor, dishon- 
 est king! When you accepted this throne, which 
 belongs to another, you fell as far as possible from 
 moral ethics. And now you would be honest and 
 be called dull, and dream, while your ministers 
 profit and smile behind your back. I beg your 
 Majesty's pardon, but you have always requested 
 that I should speak plainly." 
 
 The king laughed; he enjoyed this frank friend. 
 There was an essence of truth and sincerity in all 
 he said that encouraged confidence. 
 
 "Indeed, I shall be sorry to have you go to- 
 morrow," he said, "for I believe if you stayed 
 here long enough you would truly make a king 
 of me. Be frank, my friend, be always frank; 
 for it is only on the base of frankness that true 
 friendship can rear itself." 
 
 "You are only forty-eight," said the English- 
 man; "you are young." 
 
 "Ah, my friend," replied the king with a tinge 
 of sadness, "it is not the years that age us; it 
 is how we live them. In the last four years I 
 have lived ten. To-day I feel so very old ! I 
 am weary of being a king. I am weary of being 
 wear} r , and for such there is no remedy. Truly I 
 was not cut from the pattern of kings; no, no. 
 I am handier with a book than with a scepter; I'd 
 liever be a man than a puppet, and a puppet I 
 am a figurehead on the prow of the ship, but I 
 do not guide it. Who care for me save those who 
 have their ends to gain? None, save the arch- 
 bishop, who yet dreams of making a king of me. And
 
 8 THE PUPPET CllOWX 
 
 these are not my people who surround me; when 
 I die, small care. I shall have left in the passing 
 scarce a finger mark in the dust of time." 
 
 "Ah, Sire, if only you would be cold, unfriendly, 
 avaricious. Be stone and rule with a rod of iron. 
 Make the people fear you, since they refuse to 
 love you; be stone/' 
 
 "You can mold lead, but you can not sculp- 
 ture it; and I am lead." 
 
 "Yes; not only the metal, but the verb intran- 
 sitive. Ah, could the fires of ambition light your 
 soul !" 
 
 "My soul is a blackened grate of burnt-out 
 fires, of which only a coal remains." 
 
 And the king turned in his seat and looked 
 across the crisp green lawns to the beds of flow- 
 ers, where, followed by a maid at a respect- 
 ful distance, a slim young girl in white was 
 cutting the hardy geraniums, dahlias and seed pop- 
 pies. 
 
 "God knows what her legacy will be!" 
 
 "It is for you to make it, Sire." 
 
 Both men continued to remark the girl. At 
 length she came toward them, her arms laden 
 with flowers. She was at the age of ten, with a 
 beautiful, serious face, which some might have 
 called prophetic. Her hair was dark, shining 
 like coal and purple, and gossamer in its fine- 
 ness; her skin had the blue-whiteness of milk; 
 while from under long black lashes two luminous 
 brown eyes looked thoughtfully at the world. She 
 smiled at the king, who eyed her fondly, and gave
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 9 
 
 her unengaged hand to the Englishman, who kissed 
 it. 
 
 "And how is your Royal Highness this fine day?" 
 he asked, patting the hand before letting it go. 
 
 "Will you have a dahlia, Monsieur?" With a 
 grave air she selected a flower and slipped it 
 through his button-hole. 
 
 "Does your Highness know the language of the 
 flowers?" the Englishman asked. 
 
 "Dahlias signify dignity and elegance; you are 
 dignified, Monsieur, and dignity is elegance." 
 
 "Well !" cried the Englishman, smiling with 
 pleasure; "that is turned as adroitly as a woman 
 of thirty." 
 
 "And am I not to have one?" asked the king, 
 his eyes full of paternal love and pride. 
 
 "They are for your Majesty's table," she an- 
 swered. 
 
 "Your Majesty!" cried the king in mimic de- 
 spair. "Was ever a father treated thus? Your 
 Majesty ! Do you not know, my dear, that to me 
 'father' is the grandest title in the world?" 
 
 Suddenly she crossed over and kissed the king 
 on the cheek, and he held her to him for a moment. 
 
 The bulldog had risen, and was wagging his 
 tail the best he knew how. If there was any 
 young woman who could claim his unreserved ad- 
 miration, it was the Princess Alexia. She never 
 talked nonsense to him in their rambles together, 
 but treated him as he should be treated, as an ani- 
 mal of enlightenment. 
 
 "And here is Bull," said the princess, tickling 
 the dog's nose with a scarlet geranium.
 
 10 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "Your Highness thinks a deal of Bull?" said the 
 dog's master. 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur, he doesn't bark, and he seems 
 to understand all I say to him." 
 
 The dog looked up at his master as if to say: 
 "There now, what do you think of that?" 
 
 "To-morrow I am going away," said the diplo- 
 mat, "and as I can not very well take Bull with 
 me, I give him to you." 
 
 The girl's eyes sparkled. "Thank you, Monsieur, 
 shall I take him now?" 
 
 "No, but when I leave your father. You see, 
 he was sent to me by my son who is in India. I 
 wish to keep him near me as long as possible. My 
 son, your Highness, was a bad fellow. He ran 
 away and joined the army against my wishes, and 
 somehow we have never got together again. Still, 
 I've a sneaking regard for him, and I believe he 
 hasn't lost all his filial devotion. Bull is, in a way, 
 a connecting link." 
 
 The king turned again to the gravel pictures. 
 These Englishmen were beyond him in the matter 
 of analysis. Her Eoyal Highness smiled vaguely, 
 and wondered what this son was like. Once more 
 she smiled, then moved away toward the palace. 
 The dog, seeing that she did not beckon, lay down 
 again. An interval of silence followed her de- 
 parture. The thought of the Englishman had 
 traveled to India, the thought of the king to Osia, 
 where the girl's mother slept. The former was 
 first to rouse. 
 
 "Well, Sire, let us come to the business at hand, 
 the subject of my last informal audience. It is
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 11 
 
 crus, then, that the consols for the loan of five 
 millions of crowns are issued to-day, or have been, 
 since the morning is passed?" 
 
 "Yes, it is true. I am well pleased. Jacobi and 
 Brother have agreed to place them at face value. 
 I intend to lay out a park for the public at the 
 foot of the lake. That will demolish two millions 
 and a half. The remainder is to be used in city 
 improvements and the reconstruction of the apart- 
 ments in the palace, which are too small. If only 
 you knew what a pleasure this affords me ! I wish 
 to make my good city of Bleiberg a thing of beauty 
 parks, fountains, broad and well paved streets." 
 
 "The Diet was unanimous in regard to this loan ?" 
 
 "In fact they suggested it, and I was much in 
 favor." 
 
 "You have many friends there, then?" 
 
 "Friends?" The king's face grew puzzled, and 
 its animation faded away. "None that I know. 
 This is positively the first time we ever agreed about 
 anything." 
 
 "And did not that strike you as rather singu- 
 lar?" 
 
 "Why, no." 
 
 "Of course, the people are enthusiastic, consid- 
 ering the old rate of taxation will be renewed?" 
 The diplomat reached over and pulled the dog's 
 ears. 
 
 "So far as I can see," answered the king, who 
 could make nothing of this interrogatory. 
 
 "Which, if your Majesty will pardon me, is not 
 very far beyond your books." 
 
 "I have ministers."
 
 IS THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "Who can see farther than your Majesty has 
 any idea." 
 
 "Come, come, my friend," cried the king good- 
 naturedly; "but a moment gone you were chiding 
 me because I did nothing. I may not fill my cof- 
 fers as you suggested, but I shall please my eye, 
 which is something. Come; you have something 
 to tell me." 
 
 "Will your Majesty listen?" 
 
 "I promise." 
 
 "And to hear?" 
 
 "I promise not only to listen, but to hear," 
 laughing; "not only to hear, but to think. Is that 
 sufficient?" 
 
 "For three years," began the Englishman, "I 
 have been England's representative here. As a 
 representative I could not meddle with your af- 
 fairs, though it was possible to observe them. 
 To-day I am an unfettered agent of self, and with 
 your permission I shall talk to you as I have 
 never talked before and never shall again." 
 
 The diplomat rose from his seat and walked up 
 and down the path, his hands clasped behind his 
 back, his chin in his collar. The bulldog yawned, 
 stretched himself, and followed his master, soberly 
 and thoughtfully. After a while the Englishman 
 returned to his chair and sat down. The dog 
 gravely imitated him. He understood, perhaps 
 better than the king, his master's mood. This 
 pacing backward and forward was always the fore- 
 runner of something of great importance. 
 
 During the past year he had been the repository 
 of many a secret. Well, he knew how to keep one.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 13 
 
 Did not he carry a secret which his master would 
 have given much to know? Some one in far away 
 India, after putting him into the ship steward's 
 care, had whispered: "You tell the governor that 
 I think just as much of him as ever." He had 
 made a desperate effort to tell it the moment he 
 was liberated from the box, but he had not yet 
 mastered that particular language which charac- 
 terized his master's race. 
 
 "To begin with," said the diplomat, "what would 
 your Majesty say if I should ask permission to 
 purchase the entire loan ?"
 
 CHAPTEE II 
 THE COUP D'ETAT OF COUSIN JOSEF 
 
 The king, who had been leaning forward, fell 
 back heavily in his seat, his eyes full wide and 
 his mouth agape. Then, to express his utter be- 
 wilderment, he raised his hands above his head and 
 limply dropped them. 
 
 "Five millions of crowns?" he gasped. 
 
 "Yes; what would your Majesty say to such a 
 proposition ?" complacently. 
 
 "I should say," answered the king, with a nerv- 
 ous laugh, "that my friend had lost his senses, 
 completely and totally." 
 
 "The fact is," the Englishman declared, "they 
 were never keener nor more lucid than at this pres- 
 ent moment." 
 
 "But five millions!" 
 
 "Five millions; a bagatelle," smiling. 
 
 "Certainly you can not be serious, and if you 
 were, it is out of the question. Death of my life ! 
 The kingdom would be at my ears. The people 
 would shout that I was selling out to the English, 
 that I was putting them into the mill to grind 
 for English sacks." 
 
 "Your Majesty will recollect that the measure 
 authorizing this loan was rather a peculiar one. 
 Five millions were to be borrowed indiscrim- 
 14
 
 THE PUPPET CEOWN 15 
 
 inately, of any man or body of men willing to 
 advance the money on the securities offered. First 
 come, first served, was not written, but it was im- 
 plied. It was this which roused my curiosity, 
 or cupidity, if you will." 
 
 "I can not recollect that the bill was as you 
 say," said the king, frowning. 
 
 "I believe you. When the bill came to you, 
 you were not expected to recollect anything but 
 the royal signature. Have you read half of what 
 you have signed and made law? No. I am seri- 
 ous. What is it to you or to the people, who secures 
 this public mortgage, so long as the money is forth- 
 coming? I desire to purchase at face value the 
 twenty certificates." 
 
 "As a representative of England?" 
 
 The diplomat smiled. The king's political ig- 
 norance was well known. "As a representative of 
 England, Sire, I could not purchase the stubs 
 from which these certificates are cut. And then, 
 as I remarked, I am an unfettered agent of self. 
 The interest at two per cent, will be a fine income 
 .on a lump of stagnant money. Even in my own 
 country, where millionaires are so numerous as to 
 be termed common, I am considered a rich man. 
 My personal property, aside from my estates, is 
 five times the amount of the loan. A mere baga- 
 telle, if I may use that pleasantry." 
 
 "Impossible, impossible !" cried the king, start- 
 ing to his feet, while a line of worry ran across 
 his forehead.. He strode about impatiently slapping 
 his boots with the riding stick. "It is impossible." 
 "Why do you say impossible, Sire ?"
 
 16 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "I can not permit you to put in jeopardy a 
 quarter of a million pounds/' forgetting for the 
 moment that he was powerless. 
 
 "Aha !" the diplomat cried briskly. "There is, 
 then, beneath your weariness and philosophy, a 
 fear?" 
 
 "A fear?" With an effort the king smoothed 
 the line from his forehead. "Why should there be 
 fear?" 
 
 "Why indeed, when our cousin Josef " He 
 
 stopped and looked toward the mountains. 
 
 "Well?" abruptly. 
 
 "I was thinking what a fine coup de maitre it 
 would be for his Highness to gather in all these 
 pretty slips of parchment given under the hand 
 of Leopold." 
 
 "Small matter if he should. I should pay 
 him." The king sat down. "And it is news to 
 me that Josef can get together five millions." 
 
 "He has friends, rich and powerful friends." 
 
 "No matter, I should pay him." 
 
 "Are you quite sure?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "The face of the world changes in the course of 
 ten years. Will there be five millions in your 
 treasury ten years hence?" 
 
 "The wealth of my kingdom is not to be ques- 
 tioned," proudly, "nor its resources." 
 
 "But in ten years, with the ministers you have?" 
 The Englishman shrugged doubtfully. "Why have 
 you not formed a new cabinet of younger men? 
 Why have you retained those of your predecessor,
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 17 
 
 who are your natural enemies? You have tried 
 and failed." 
 
 The expression of weariness returned to the 
 king's face. He knew that all this was but a pre- 
 amble to something of deeper significance. He an- 
 ticipated what was forming in the other's mind, 
 but he wished to avoid a verbal declaration. 0, 
 he knew that there was a net of intrigue enmesh- 
 ing him, but it was so very fine that he could not 
 pick up the smallest thread whereby to unravel 
 it. Down in his soul he felt the shame of the 
 knowledge that he dared not. A dreamer, rush- 
 ing toward the precipice, would rather fall dream- 
 ing than waken and struggle futilely. 
 
 "My friend," he said, finally, sighing, "proceed. 
 I am all attention." 
 
 "I never doubted your Majesty's perspicacity. 
 You do not know, but you suspect, what I am 
 about to disclose to you. My hope is that, when 
 I am done, your Majesty will throw Kant and the 
 rest of your philosophers out of the window. The 
 people are sullen at the mention of your name, 
 while they cheer another. There is an astonish- 
 ing looseness about your revenues. The reds and 
 the socialists plot for revolution and a republic, 
 which is a thin disguise for a certain restoration. 
 Your cousin the duke visits you publicly twice 
 each year. He has been in the city a week at a 
 time incognito, yet your minister of police seems 
 to know nothing." The speaker ceased, and fondled 
 the dahlia in his button-hole. 
 
 The king, noting the action, construed it as the 
 subtle old diplomat intended he should. "Yes,
 
 18 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 yes ! I am a king only for her sake. Go on. Tell 
 me all." 
 
 "The archbishop and the chancellor are the only 
 friends you possess. The Marshal, from personal 
 considerations merely, remains neutral. Your army, 
 excepting the cuirassiers, are traitors to your house. 
 The wisest thing you have done was to surround 
 yourself with this mercenary body, whom you call 
 the royal cuirassiers, only, instead of three hun- 
 dred, you should have two thousand. Self-interest 
 will make them true to you. You might find some 
 means to pay them, for they would be a good buf- 
 fer between you and your enemies. The presi- 
 dent of the Diet and the members are passing bilb, 
 which will eventually undermine you. How long 
 it will take I can not say. But this last folly, the 
 loan, which you could have got on without, 
 caps the climax. The duke was in the city last 
 week unknown to you. Your minister of finance 1 
 is his intimate. This loan was a connivance of 
 them all. Why ten years, when it could easily 
 be liquidated in five? I shall tell you. The duke 
 expects to force you into bankruptcy within that 
 time, and when the creditor demands and you can 
 not pay, you will be driven from here in disgrace. 
 
 "And where will you go? Certainly not to 
 Osia, since you traded it for this throne. It was 
 understood, when you assumed the reign, that the 
 finances of the kingdom would remain unim- 
 peachable. Bankrupt, the confederation will b 
 forced to disavow you. They will be compelled to 
 restore the throne to your enemy, who, believe me, 
 is most anxious to become vour creditor.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 19 
 
 "This is an independent state, conditionally. 
 The confederation have formed themselves into a 
 protectorate. Why? 1 can only guess. One or 
 more of them covet these beautiful lands. What arc 
 ten years to Josef, when a crown is the goal ? Your 
 revenues are slowly to decline, there will be in- 
 ternal troubles to eat up what money you have 
 in the treasury. 0, it is a plot so fine, so swiftly 
 conceived, so cunningly devised that I would I were 
 twenty years younger, to fight it with you ! But 
 I am old. My days for acting are past. I can 
 only advise. He was sure of his quarry, this 
 Josef whose hair is of many colors. Had you 
 applied to the money syndicates of Europe, the 
 banks of England, France, Germany, or Austria, 
 your true sponsor, the result would always be the 
 same: your ruin. Covertly I warned you not to 
 sign; you laughed and signed. A trap was there, 
 your own hand opened it. How they must have 
 laughed at you! If you attempt to repudiate your 
 signature the Diet has power to overrule you. 
 
 "Truly, the shade of Macchiavelli masks in the 
 garb of your cousin. I admire the man's genius. 
 This is his throne by right of inheritance. I do not 
 blame him. Only, I wish to save you. If you 
 were alone, why, I do not say that I should trouble 
 myself, for you yourself would not be troubled. 
 But I have grown to love that child of yours. It 
 is all for her. Do you now understand why I make 
 the request? It appears Quixotic? Not at all. 
 Put my money in jeopardy? Xot while the king- 
 dom exist?. If you can not pay back, your king- 
 dom will. Perhaps you ask what is the difference,
 
 20 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 whether I or the duke becomes your creditor? 
 This: in ten years I shall be happy to renew the 
 loan. In ten years, if I am gone, there will bi> 
 my son. You wonder why I do this. I repeat it 
 is for your daughter. And perhaps," with a dry 
 smile, "it is because I have no love for Josef." 
 
 "I will defeat him!" cried the king, a fire at 
 last shining in his eyes. 
 
 "You will not." 
 
 "I will appeal to the confederation and inform 
 them of the plot." 
 
 "The resource of a child! They would laugh 
 at you for your pains. For they are too proud of 
 their prowess in statecraft to tolerate a suspicion 
 that your cousin is a cleverer man than all of 
 them put together. There remains only one thing 
 for you to do." 
 
 "And what is that?" wearily. 
 
 "Accept my friendship at its true value." 
 
 The king made no reply. He set his elbows on 
 the arms of the rustic seat, interlaced his fingers 
 and rested his chin on them, while his booted legs 
 slid out before him. His meditation lengthened 
 into several minutes. The diplomat evinced no 
 sign of impatience. 
 
 "Come with me," said the king, rising quickly. 
 "I will no longer dream. I will act. Come." 
 
 The diplomat nodded approvingly; and together 
 they marched toward the palace. The bulldog 
 trotted on behind, his pink tongue lolling out of 
 his black mouth, a white tusk or two gleaming 
 on each side. The Lieutenant of the cuirassier? 
 saluted as they passed him, and, when they had
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 21 
 
 gone some distance, swung in behind. He observed 
 with some concern that his Majesty was much agi- 
 tated. 
 
 The business of the kingdom, save that per- 
 formed in the Diet, was accomplished in the east 
 wing of the palace; the king's apartments, aside 
 from the state rooms, occupied the west wing. It 
 was to the business section that the king conducted 
 the diplomat. In the chamber of finance its min- 
 ister was found busy at his desk. He glanced up 
 casually, but gave an ejaculation of surprise when 
 he perceived who his visitors were. 
 
 "0, your Majesty !" he cried, bobbing up and 
 running out his chair. "Good afternoon, your Ex- 
 cellency," to the Englishman, adjusting his gold- 
 rimmed glasses, through which his eyes shone pale 
 and cold. 
 
 The diplomat bowed. The little man reminded 
 him of M. Thiers, that effervescence of soda tinc- 
 tured with the bitterness of iron. He understood 
 the distrust which Count von Wallenstein enter- 
 tained for him, but he was not distrustful of the 
 count. Distrust implies uncertainty, and the En- 
 glishman was not the least uncertain as to his con- 
 ception of this gentleman of finance. 
 
 There were few men whom the count could not 
 interpret; one stood before him. He could not 
 comprehend why England had sent so astute a 
 diplomat and politician to a third-rate kingdom. 
 Of that which we can not understand we are aus- 
 picious, and the guilty are distrustful. Neither 
 the minister of police nor his subordinates could
 
 22 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 fathom the purpose of this calm, dignified old man 
 with the difficult English name. 
 
 "Count," began the king, pleasantly, "his Ex- 
 cellency here has made a peculiar request." 
 
 "And what might that be, Sire?" 
 
 "He offers to purchase the entire number of cer- 
 tificates issued to-day for our loan." 
 
 "Five millions of crowns?" The minister's as- 
 tonishment was so genuine that in jerking back 
 his head his glasses slipped from his nose and dan- 
 gled on the string. 
 
 The Englishman bowed again, the wrinkle of a 
 smile on his face. 
 
 "I would not believe him serious at first, count," 
 said the king, laughing easily, "but he assured 
 me that he is. What can be done about it?" 
 
 "0, your Majesty," cried the minister, excitedly, 
 "it would not be politic. And then the measure ' 
 
 "Is it possible that I have misconstrued its im- 
 port?" the diplomat interposed with a fine air of 
 surprise. 
 
 "You are familiar " began the count, hesitat- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Perfectly; that is, I believe so." 
 
 "But England" 
 
 "Has nothing whatever to do with the matter. 
 Something greater, which goes by the name of self- 
 interest." 
 
 "Ah," said the count, his wrinkles relaxing; 
 "then it is on your own responsibility?" 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "But five millions of crowns two hundred and 
 fifty thousand pounds!" The minister could not
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWX 23 
 
 compose himself. "This is a vast sum of money. 
 We expected not an individual, but a syndicate, to 
 accept our securities, to become debtors to the vari- 
 ous banks on the continent. But a personal af- 
 fair ! Five millions of crowns ! The possibilities 
 of your wealth overwhelm me." 
 
 The Englishman smiled. "I dare say I have 
 more than my share of this world's goods. I can 
 give you a check for the amount on the bank of 
 England." 
 
 "Your Majesty's lamented predecessor " 
 
 "Is dead," said the king gently. He had no 
 desire to hear the minister recount that ruler's 
 virtues. "Peace to his ashes." 
 
 "Five millions of crowns !" The minister had 
 lost his equipoise in the face of the Englishman's 
 great riches, of which hitherto he had held some 
 doubts. Suddenly a vivid thought entered his con- 
 fused brain. The paper cutter in his hand trem- 
 bled. In the breathing space allowed him he be- 
 gan to calculate rapidly. The king and the diplo- 
 mat had been in the garden ; something had passed 
 between them. What? The paper cutter slowly 
 ceased its uneven movements. The count calmly 
 
 placed it behind the inkwells The 
 
 Englishman knew. The glitter of gold gave way 
 to the thought of the peril. A chasm yawned at 
 his feet. But he was an old soldier in the game 
 of words and cross-purposes. 
 
 "We should be happy to accord you the privilege 
 of becoming the kingdom's creditor," he said, 
 smiling at the diplomat, whom nothing had es- 
 caped. "I am afraid, however, that your request has
 
 24 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 been submitted too late. At ten o'clock this morning 
 the transfer of the certificates would have been 
 a simple matter. There are twenty in all; it may 
 not be too late to secure some of them." He 
 looked tranquilly from the Englishman to the 
 king. 
 
 The smiling mask fell from the king's face; he 
 felt that he was lost. He tried to catch his 
 friend's eye, but the diplomat was deeply inter- 
 ested in the console of the fireplace. 
 
 "They seem to be at a premium," the English- 
 man said, "which speaks well for the prosperity 
 of the country. I am sorry to have troubled you." 
 
 "It would have been a pleasure indeed," replied 
 the count. He stood secure within his fortress, 
 so secure that he would have liked to laugh. 
 
 "It is too bad," said the king, pulling his 
 thoughts together. 
 
 "Your Majesty is giving the matter too much 
 importance," said the diplomat. "It was merely a 
 whim. I shall have the pleasure and honor of 
 presenting my successor this evening." 
 
 The count bent low, while the king nodded ab- 
 sently. He was thinking that a penful of ink, 
 carelessly trailed over a sheet of paper, had lost 
 him his throne. He was about to draw the ami 
 of the diplomat through his own, when his step 
 was arrested by the entrance of a messenger who 
 presented a letter to the minister of finance. 
 
 "With your Majesty's permission," he said, tear- 
 ing open the envelope. As he read the content?, 
 his shoulders sank to their habitual stoop and 
 benignity once more shone in the place of alert-
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 25 
 
 ness. "Decidedly, fate is not with your Excellency 
 to-day. M. Jacobi writes me that four millions 
 have already been disposed of to M. Everard & 
 Co., English bankers in the Konigstrasse, who 
 are representing a French firm in this particular 
 instance. I am very sorry." 
 
 "It is of no moment now," replied the English- 
 man indifferently. 
 
 The adverb which concluded this declaration 
 caught the keen ear of the minister, who grew 
 tall again. What would he not have given to 
 read the subtle brain of his opponent, for oppo- 
 nent he knew him to be ! His intense scrutiny 
 was blocked by a pair of most innocent eyes. 
 
 "Well," said the king impatiently, "let us be 
 gone, my friend. The talk of money always leaves 
 a copperish taste on my tongue." 
 
 Arm in arm they passed from the chamber. 
 AVhen the door closed behind them, the min- 
 ister of finance drew his handkerchief across his 
 brow. 
 
 "Everard & Co.," mused the Englishman aloud. 
 "Was it not indeed a stroke for your cousin to 
 select them as his agents? You will in truth be 
 accused of selling out to the English. But there 
 is a coincidence in all this." 
 
 "I am lost!" said the king. 
 
 "On the contrary, you are saved. Everard & 
 Co. are my bankers and attorneys; in fact, I own 
 an interest in the firm." 
 
 "What is this you tell me?" cried the king. 
 
 "Sire, we English have a peculiar trait; it is 
 asking for something after we have taken it. The
 
 26 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 human countenance is a fine picture book. I 
 should like to read that belonging to your cousin 
 Josef, providing I could read unobserved." 
 
 "My friend !" said the king. 
 
 "Say nothing. Here is the bulldog; take him 
 to her Royal Highness with my compliments. There 
 is no truer friend than an animal of his breed. 
 He is steadfast in his love, for he makes but few 
 friends; he is a good companion, for he is un- 
 demonstrative-; he can read and draw inferences, 
 and your enemies will be his. I shall bid you 
 good afternoon. God be with your Majesty." 
 
 "Ah, to lose you now!" said the king, a heavi- 
 ness in his heart such as presentiment brings. 
 
 The diplomat turned and went down the grand 
 corridor. The bulldog tugged at his chain. Ani- 
 mals are gifted with prescience. He knew that 
 his master had passed forever out of his life. 
 Presently he heard the voice of the princess call- 
 ing; and the glamour of royalty encompassed 
 him, something a human finds hard to resist, and 
 he was only a dog. 
 
 Meanwhile another messenger had entered the 
 chamber of finance and had gone. On the minister's 
 desk lay a crumpled sheet of paper on which was 
 written : 
 
 "Treason and treachery ! It has at this mo- 
 ment been ascertained that, while pretending to 
 be our agents in securing the consols, M. Everard 
 & Co. now refuse to deliver them into the cus- 
 tody of Baron von Rumpf, as agreed; and fur- 
 ther, that M. Everard & Co. are bankers and at-
 
 THE PUPPET CROWX ?7 
 
 torneys to his Excellency the British minister. 
 
 He must not leave this city with those consols." 
 
 With his eyes riveted on these words, the min- 
 ister of finance, huddled in his chair, had fallen 
 into a profound study. 
 
 There were terrible times in the house of Josef 
 that night.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AN EPISODE TEN TEARS AFTER 
 
 One fine September morning in a year the date 
 of which is of no particular importance, a man 
 stepped out of a second-class carriage on to the 
 canopied platform of the railway terminus in the 
 ancient and picturesque city of Bleiberg. He 
 yawned, shook himself, and stretched his arms and 
 legs, relieved to find that the tedious journey 
 from Vienna had not cramped those appendages 
 beyond recovery. 
 
 He stood some inches above the average height, 
 and was built up in a manner that suggested the 
 handiwork of a British drill-master, his figure 
 being both muscular and symmetrical. Besides, 
 there was on his skin that rich brown shadow 
 which is the result only of the forces of the snn 
 and wind, a life in the open air. This color ga>v 
 peculiar emphasis to the yellow hair and mustache. 
 His face was not handsome, if one accept the 
 Greek profile as a model of manly beauty, but it 
 was cleanly and boldly cut, healthful, strong and 
 purposeful, based on determined jaws and a chin 
 which would have been obstinate but for the pres- 
 ence of a kindly mouth. 
 
 A guard deposited at his feet a new hatbox, a 
 28
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 29 
 
 battered traveling bag and two gun cases which 
 also gave evidence of rough usage. The luggage 
 was literally covered with mutilated square and 
 oblong slips of paper of many colors, on which 
 were printed the advertisements of far-sighted 
 hotel keepers all the way from Bombay to Lon- 
 don and half-way back across the continent. 
 
 There was nothing to be seen, however, indica- 
 tive of the traveler's name. He surveyed his sur- 
 roundings with lively interest shining in his 
 gray eyes, one of which peered through a mon- 
 ocle encircled by a thin rim of tortoise shell. He 
 watched the fussy customs officials, who, by some 
 strange mischance, overlooked his belongings. 
 Finally he made an impatient gesture. 
 
 "Find me a cab," he said to the attentive guard, 
 who, with an eye to the main chance, had waved 
 off the approach of a station porter. "If the in- 
 spectors are in no hurry, I am." 
 
 "At once, my lord;" and the guard, as he 
 stooped and lifted the luggage, did not see the 
 start which this appellation caused the stranger to 
 make, but who, after a moment, was convinced 
 that the guard had given him the title merely out 
 of politeness. The guard placed the traps inside 
 of one of the many vehicles stationed at the street 
 exit of the terminus. He was an intelligent and 
 deductive servant. 
 
 The traveler was some noted English lord who 
 had come to Bleiberg to shoot the famed golden 
 pheasant, and had secured a second-class compart- 
 ment in order to demonstrate his incognito. Per- 
 sons who traveled second-class usually did so to
 
 30 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 save money; yet this tall Englishman, since the 
 train departed from Vienna, had almost doubled 
 in gratuities thb sum paid for his ticket. The 
 guard stood respectfully at the door of the cab, 
 doffed his cap, into which a memento was dropped, 
 and went along about his business. 
 
 The Englishman slammed the door, the jehu 
 cracked his whip, and a moment later the 
 hoarse breathings of the motionless engines be- 
 came lost in the> sharper noises of the city carts. 
 The unknown leaned against the faded cushions, 
 curled his mustache, and smiled as if well satisfied 
 with events. It is quite certain that his sense of 
 ease and security would have been somewhat dis- 
 turbed had he known that another cab was close 
 on the track of his, and that its occupant, an 
 officer of the city gendarmerie, alternately smiled 
 and frowned as one does who floats between con- 
 viction and uncertainty. At length the two ve- 
 hicles turned into the Konigstrassc, the principal 
 thoroughfare of the capital, and here the English- 
 man's cab came to a stand. The jehu climbed 
 down and opened the door. 
 
 "Did Herr say the Continental?" he asked. 
 
 "No; the Grand." 
 
 The driver shrugged, remounted his box, and 
 drove on. The Grand Hotel was clean enough and 
 respectable, but that was all that could be said in 
 its favor. He wondered if the Englishman would 
 haggle over the fare. Englishmen generally did. 
 He was agreeably disappointed, however, when, on 
 arriving at the mean hostelry, his passenger
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 31 
 
 plunged a hand into a pocket and produced three 
 Franz-Josef florins. 
 
 "You may have these," he said, "for the trouble 
 of having them exchanged into crowns." 
 
 As he whipped up, the philosophical cabman mused 
 that these tourists were beyond the pale of his un- 
 derstanding. With a pocket full of money, and 
 to put up at the Grand! Why not the Conti- 
 nental, which lay close to the Werter See, the pal- 
 aces, the royal and public gardens? It was at 
 the Continental that the fine ladies and gentle- 
 men from Vienna, and Innsbruck, and Munich, 
 and Belgrade, resided during the autumn months. 
 But the Grand ach ! it was in the heart of the 
 shops and markets, and within a stone's throw of 
 that gloomy pile of granite designated in the vari- 
 ous guide books as the University of Bleiberg. 
 
 The Englishman had some difficulty in finding 
 a pen that would write, and the ink was oily, 
 and the guest-book was not at the proper angle. At 
 last he managed to form the letters of his name, 
 which was John Hamilton. After some deliber- 
 ation, he followed this with "England." The pro- 
 prietor, who acted as his own clerk, drew the book 
 toward him, and after some time, deciphered the 
 cabalistic signs. 
 
 "Ah, Herr John Hamilton of England; is that 
 right?" 
 
 "Yes; I am here for a few days' shooting. 
 Can you find me a man to act as guide?" 
 
 "This very morning, Herr." 
 
 "Thanks." 
 
 Then he proceeded up the stairs to the room
 
 32 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 assigned to him. The smell of garlic which per- 
 vaded the air caused him to make a grimace. 
 Once alone in the room, he looked about. There 
 was neither soap nor towel, but there was a card 
 which stated that the same could be purchased at 
 the office. He laughed. A pitcher of water and 
 a bowl stood on a small table, which, by the pres- 
 ence of a mirror (that could not in truth reflect 
 anything but light and darkness), served as a 
 dresser. These he used to good advantage, drying 
 his face and hands on the white counterpane of 
 the bed, and laughing quietly as he did so. Next 
 he lit a pipe, whose capacity for tobacco was rather 
 less than that of a lady's thimble, sat in a chair 
 by the window, smoked quietly, and gazed down 
 on the busy street. 
 
 It was yet early in the morning; sellers of veg- 
 etables, men and women peasants, with bare legs 
 and wooden shoes, driving shaggy Servian ponies 
 attached to low, cumbersome carts, passed and re- 
 passed, to and from the markets. A gendarme, 
 leaning the weight of his shoulder on the guard 
 of a police saber, rested against the corner of a 
 wine shop across the way. Students, wearing 
 squat caps with vizors, sauntered indolently along, 
 twirling canes and ogling all who wore petticoats. 
 Occasionally the bright uniform of a royal cuirassier 
 flashed by; and the Englishman would lean over 
 the sill and gaze after him, nodding his head in 
 approval whenever the cuirassier sat his horse well. 
 
 In the meantime the gendarme, who followed 
 him from the station, had entered the hotel,
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 33 
 
 hastily glanced at the freshly written name, and 
 made off toward the palace. 
 
 "Well, here we are," mused the Englishman, 
 pressing his thumb into the bowl of his pipe. 
 "The affair promises some excitement. To-morrow 
 will be the sixth ; on the twentieth it will be a closed 
 incident, as the diplomats would say. I don't know 
 what brought me here so far ahead of time. I 
 suppose I must look out for a crack on the head 
 from some one I don't know, but who knows me 
 so deuced well that he has hunted me in India 
 and England, first with fine bribes, then with 
 threats." He glanced over his shoulder in the di- 
 rection of the gun cases. "It was a capital idea, 
 otherwise a certain ubiquitous customs official, who 
 lies in wait for the unwary at the frontier, would 
 now be an inmate of a hospital. To have lived 
 thirty-five years, and to have ground out thirteen 
 of them in her Majesty's, is to have acquired a 
 certain disdain for danger, even when it is masked. 
 I am curious to see how far these threats will go. 
 It will take a clever man to trap me. The incog- 
 nito is a fort. By the way, I wonder how the in- 
 spectors at the station came to overlook my traps? 
 Strange, considering what I have gone through." 
 
 At this moment the knuckles of a hand bear 
 against the door. 
 
 "Come in !" answered the Englishman, wheel- 
 ing his chair, but making no effort to rise. "Come 
 in!" 
 
 The door swung in, and there entered a short, 
 spectacled man in dark gray clothes which fairly
 
 34 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 bristled with brass buttons. He was the chief in- 
 spector of customs. He bowed. 
 
 The Englishman, consternation widening his 
 eyes, lowered his pipe. 
 
 "Monsieur Hamilton's pardon," the inspector 
 began, speaking in French, "but with your per- 
 mission I shall inspect your luggage and glance 
 at your passports." He bowed again. 
 
 "Now do you know, mon ami, 7 ' replied the En- 
 glishman, "that Monsieur Hamilton will not per- 
 mit you to gaze even into yonder washbowl?" He 
 rose lazily. 
 
 "But, Monsieur," cried the astonished official, to 
 whom non-complaisance in the matter of inspec- 
 tion was unprecedented, "you certainly will not 
 put any obstacle in the path of my duty !" 
 
 "Your duty, Monsieur the Spectacles, is to in- 
 spect at the station. There your assistants refused 
 to award me their attention. You are trespass- 
 ing." 
 
 "Monsieur forgets," sternly; "it is the law. Is 
 it possible that I shall be forced to call in the gen- 
 darmes to assist me? This is extraordinary!" 
 
 "I dare say it is, on your part," admitted the En- 
 glishman, polishing the bowl of his pipe against 
 the side of his nose. "You had best go at once. 
 If you do not, I shall take you by the nape of 
 your Bleibergian neck and kick you down the 
 stairs. I have every assurance of my privileges. 
 The law here, unless it has changed within the 
 past hour, requires inspection at the frontier, and 
 at the capital; but your jurisdiction does not ex-
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 35 
 
 tend beyond the stations. Bon jour, Monsieur the 
 Spectacles; bon jour!" 
 
 "0, Monsieur!" 
 
 "Good day!" 
 
 "Monsieur, it is my duty; I must!" 
 
 "Good day ! How will you go, by the stairs or 
 by the window? I but wait!" an idea coming 
 to him which caused him to reflect on the possible 
 outcome of violence done to a government official, 
 who, perhaps, was discharging his peculiar duty at 
 the orders of superiors. He walked swiftly to the 
 door and slid the bolt, to the terror of the in- 
 spector, on whose brow drops of perspiration began 
 to gather. "Now," opening the hat box and taking 
 out a silk hat, "this is a hat, purchased in Paris; 
 at Cook's. There is nothing in the lining but 
 felt. Look into the box; nothing. Take out your 
 book and follow me closely," he continued, divid- 
 ing the traveling bag into halves, and he began 
 to enumerate the contents. 
 
 "But, Monsieur!" remonstrated the inspector, 
 who did not enjoy this infringement of his pre- 
 rogatives; his was the part to overhaul. "This 
 is" 
 
 "Be still and follow me," and the Englishman 
 went on with the inventory. "There !" when he 
 had done, "not a dutiable thing except this Ger- 
 man-Scotch whisky, and that is so bad that I give 
 it to you rather than pay duty. What next? My 
 passports? Here they are, absolutely flawless, 
 viskd by the authorities in Vienna." 
 
 The slips crackled in the fluttering fingers of 
 the inspector. "They are as you say, Monsieur,"
 
 3G THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 he said, returning the permits. Then he added 
 timidly, "And the gun cases?" 
 
 "The gun cases!" The pipe spilled its coal to 
 the floor. "The gun cases!" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur." 
 
 "And why do you wish to look into them?" 
 with agitation. 
 
 "Smugglers sometimes fill them with cigars." 
 
 "Ah!" The Englishman selected two loaded 
 shells, drew a gun from the case, threw up the 
 breech and rammed in the shells. Then he ex- 
 tended the weapon to within an inch of the terrified 
 inspector's nose. "Now, Monsieur the Spectacles, 
 look in there and tell me what you see." 
 
 The fellow sank half-fainting into a chair. "Mon 
 Dieu, Monsieur, would you kill me who have a 
 family?" 
 
 "What's a customs inspector, more or less?" 
 asked the terrible islander, laughing. "I advise 
 you not to ask me to let you look into the other 
 gun, out of consideration for your family. It has 
 hair triggers, and my fingers tremble." 
 
 "Monsieur, Monsieur, you do wrong to trifle 
 with the law. I shall be obliged to report you. 
 You will be arrested." 
 
 "Nothing of the kind," was the retort. "I have 
 only to inform the British minister how remiss 
 you were in your obligations. I should go free, 
 whereas you would be discharged. But what I 
 demand to know is, what the devil is the meaning 
 of this farce." 
 
 "I am simply obeying orders," answered the in- 
 spector, wiping his forehead. "It is not a farce,
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN" 37 
 
 a? Monsieur will find." Then, as if to excuse this 
 implied threat: "Will Monsieur please point the 
 gun the other way?" 
 
 The Englishman unloaded the gun and tossed 
 it on the bed. 
 
 "Thanks. In coming here I simply obeyed the 
 orders of the minister of police." 
 
 "And what in the world did you expect to find?" 
 
 "We are looking that is, they are looking 0, 
 Monsieur, it is impossible for me to disclose to 
 you my government's purposes." 
 
 "What and whom were you expecting?" de- 
 manded the Englishman. "You shall not leave 
 this room till you have fully explained this re- 
 markable intrusion." 
 
 "We were expecting the Lord and Baronet Fitz- 
 gerald." 
 
 "The lord!" laughing. "Does the lord visit 
 Bleiberg often, then, that you prepare this sort of 
 a reception? And the Baronet Fitzgerald?" 
 
 "They are the same and the one person." 
 
 "And who the deuce is he; a spy, a smuggler, 
 a villain, or what?" 
 
 "As to that, Monsieur," with a wonder why this 
 man laughed, "I know no more than you. But 
 I do know that for the past month every English- 
 man has been subjected to this surveillance, and 
 has submitted with more grace than you," with an 
 oblique glance. 
 
 "What! Examined his luggage at the hotel?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur. It is the order of the min- 
 ister of police. I know not why." The natural 
 color was returning to his cheeks.
 
 38 THE PUPPET CBOWN 
 
 "This is a fine country, I must say. At least 
 the king should acquaint his visitors with the 
 true cause of this treatment." In his turn the 
 Englishman resorted to oblique glances. 
 
 "The king?" The inspector raised a shoulder 
 and spread his hands. "The king is a paralytic, 
 Monsieur, and has little to say these days." 
 
 "A paralytic? I thought he was called 'the 
 handsome monarch'?" 
 
 "That was years ago, Monsieur. For three years 
 he has been helpless and bedridden. The arch- 
 bishop is the real king nowadays. But he med- 
 dles not with the police." 
 
 "This is very sad. I suppose it would be im- 
 possible for strangers to see him now." 
 
 "An audience?" a sparkle behind the spectacles. 
 "Is your business with the king, Monsieur?" 
 
 "My business is mine," shortly. "I am only a 
 tourist, and should have liked to see the king 
 from mere curiosity. However, had you explained 
 all this to me, I should not have caused you so 
 many gray hairs." 
 
 "Monsieur did not give me the chance," simply. 
 
 "True," the Englishman replied soberly. He be- 
 gan to think that he had been over hasty in as- 
 serting his privileges. "But all this has nothing 
 to do with me. My name is John Hamilton. See, 
 it is engraved on the stock of the gun," catching 
 it up and holding it under the spectacled eyes, 
 which still observed it with some trepidation. 
 "That is the name in my passports, in the book 
 down stairs, in the lining of my hat. I am sorry, 
 since you were only obeying orders, that my rough
 
 39 
 
 play has caused you alarm." He unbolted the 
 door. "Good morning." 
 
 The inspector left the room as swiftly as his 
 short legs could carry him, ignoring the ethics of 
 common politeness. As he stumbled down the 
 stairs he cursed the minister of police for requiring 
 this spy work of him, and not informing him why 
 it was done. Ah, these cursed Anglais from An- 
 gleterre ! They were all alike, and this one was 
 the worst he had ever encountered. And those ugly 
 black orifices in the gun ! Peste ! He would re- 
 sign ! Yes, certainly he would resign. 
 
 As to the Englishman, he stood in the center 
 of the room and scratched his head. "Hang it, 
 I've made an ass of myself. That blockhead will 
 have the gendarmes about my ears. If they arrest 
 me there will be the devil to pay. The Lord and 
 the Baronet Fitzgerald !" he repeated. He sat 
 down on the edge of the bed, and fell to laughing 
 again. "Confound these picture-book kingdoms! 
 They always take themselves so seriously. Well, 
 if the gendarmes call this afternoon I'll not be 
 at home. No, thank you. I shall be hunting 
 pheasants." 
 
 And thereat he set to work cleaning the gun 
 which had all but prostrated the inspector. Soon 
 the room smelled of oiled rags and tobacco. Some- 
 times the worker whistled softly. Sometimes he 
 let the gun fall against his knee, and stared dream- 
 ily through the window at the flight of the ragged 
 clouds. Again, he would shake his head, as if 
 there were something which he failed to under-
 
 4.0 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 stand. Half an hour passed, when again some one 
 knocked on the door. 
 
 "Come in!" Under his breath he added: "The 
 gendarmes, likely." 
 
 But it was only tha proprietor of the hotel. 
 "Asking Herr's pardon," he said, "for this intru- 
 sion, but I have secured a man for you. I have 
 the honor to recommend Johann Kopf as a good 
 guide and hunter." 
 
 "Send him up. If he pleases me, I'll use him." 
 
 The proprietor withdrew. 
 
 Johann Kopf proved to be a young German with 
 a round, ruddy face, which was so innocent of 
 guile as to be out of harmony with the shrewd, 
 piercing black eyes looking out of it. The En- 
 glishman eyed him inquisitively, even suspiciously. 
 
 "Are you a good hunter?" he asked. 
 
 "There is none better hereabout," answered Jo- 
 hann, twirling his cap with noticeably white fin- 
 gers. It was only in after days that the English- 
 man appreciated the full significance of this an- 
 swer. 
 
 "Speak English?" 
 
 "No. Herr's German is excellent, however." 
 
 "Humph !" The Englishman gave a final glance 
 into the shining tubes of the gun, snapped the 
 breach, and slipped it into the case. "You'll do. 
 Return to the office; I'll be down presently." 
 
 "Will Herr hunt this morning?" 
 
 "No; what I wish this morning is to see the 
 city of Bleiberg." 
 
 "That is simple," said Johann. The fleeting,
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 41 
 
 imperceptible smile did not convict his eyes of 
 false keenness. 
 
 He bowed out. When the door closed the En- 
 glishman waited until the sound of retreating steps 
 failed. Then he took the gun case which he had 
 not yet opened, and thrust it under the mattress 
 of the bed. 
 
 "Johann," he said, as he put on a soft hat and 
 drew a cane from the straps of the traveling bag, 
 "you will certainly precede me in our hunting ex- 
 peditions. I do not like your eyes; they are not 
 at home in your boyish face. Humph ! what a 
 country. Every one speaks a different tongue." 
 
 The city of Bleiberg lay on a hill and in the 
 valleys which fell away to the east and west. It 
 was divided into two towns, the upper and the 
 lower. The upper town and that part which lay 
 on the shores of the Werter See was the modern 
 and fashionable district. It was here that the 
 king and the archbishop had their palaces and the 
 wealthy their brick and stone. The public park 
 skirted the lake, and was patterned after those fine 
 gardens which add so much to the picturcsquencss 
 of Vienna and Berlin. There were wide gravel 
 paths and long avenues of lofty chestnuts and lin- 
 dens, iron benches, fountains and winding flower 
 beds. The park, the palaces, and the Continental 
 Hotel enclosed a public square, paved with asphalt, 
 called the Hohenstaufcnplatz, in the center of which 
 rose a large marble fountain of several streams, 
 guarded by huge bronze wolves. Here, too, were 
 iron benches which were, for the most part, the 
 meeting-place of the nursemaids. Carriages were
 
 42 
 
 allowed to make the circuit, but not to obstruct the 
 way. 
 
 The Konigstrasse began at the Platz, divided 
 the city, and wound away southward, merging 
 into the highway which continued to the Thalian 
 Alps, some thirty miles distant. The palaces were 
 at the southeast corner of the Platz, first the 
 king's, then the archbishop's. The private gardens 
 of each ran into the lake. Directly across from 
 the palaces stood the cathedral, a relic of five cen- 
 turies gone. On the northwest corner stood the 
 Continental Hotel, with terrace and parapet at the 
 water's edge, and a delightful open-air cafe facing 
 the Platz. September and October were prosper- 
 ous months in Bleiberg. Fashionable people who 
 desired quiet made Bleiberg an objective point. 
 The pheasants were plump, there were boars, gray 
 wolves, and not infrequently Monsieur Fourpaws 
 of the shaggy coat wandered across from the Car- 
 pathians. 
 
 As to the lower town, it was given over to the 
 shops and markets, the barracks, the university, and 
 the Kathhaus, which served as the house of the 
 Diet. It was full of narrow streets and quaint 
 dwellings. 
 
 Up the Konigstrasse the guide led the English- 
 man, who nodded whenever the voluble chatter of 
 the German pleased him. When they began the 
 descent of the hill, the vista which opened before 
 them drew from the Englishman an ejaculation 
 of delight. There lay the lake, like a bright new 
 coin in a green purse; the light of the sun broke
 
 43 
 
 on the white buildings and flashed from the win- 
 dows; and the lawns twinkled like emeralds, 
 
 "It makes Vienna look to her laurels, eh, Herr?" 
 said Johann. 
 
 "But it must have cost a pretty penny." 
 
 "Aye, that it did; and the king is heing im- 
 pressed with that fact every day. There are few 
 such fine palaces outside of first-class kingdoms. 
 The cathedral there was erected at the desire of 
 a pope, born five hundred years ago. It is full 
 of romance. There is to be a grand wedding there 
 on the twentieth of this month. That is why there 
 are so many fashionable people at the hotels. The 
 crown prince of Carnavia, which is the large king- 
 dom just east of us, is to wed the Princess Alexia, 
 the daughter of the king." 
 
 "On the twentieth? That is strange." 
 
 "Strange?" 
 
 "0, I meant nothing," said the Englishman, 
 jerking back his shoulders; "I had in mind an- 
 other affair." 
 
 There was a flash in Johann's eyes, but he sub- 
 dued it before the Englishman was aware of its 
 presence. "However," said Johann, "there is some- 
 thing strange. The prince was to have arrived a 
 week ago to complete the final arrangements for 
 the wedding. His suite has been here a week, but 
 no sign of his Highness. He stopped over a train 
 at Ehrenstein to visit for a few hours a friend of 
 the king, his father. Since then nothing has been 
 heard from him. The king, it is said, fears that 
 some accident has happened to him. Carnavia is 
 also disturbed over this disappearance. Some
 
 44 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 whisper of a beautiful peasant girl. Who can 
 say?" 
 
 "Any political significance in this marriage?" 
 
 "Leopold expects to strengthen his throne by the 
 alliance. But " Johann's mouth closed and his 
 tongue pushed out his cheek. "There will be some 
 fine doings in the good city of Bleiberg before 
 the month is gone. The minister from the duchy 
 has been given his passports. Every one concedes 
 that trouble is likely to ensue. Baron von Rumpf 
 
 "Baron von Rumpf," repeated the Englishman 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "Yes; he is not a man to submit to accusations 
 without making a disagreeable defense." 
 
 "What does the duke say?" 
 
 "The duke?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "His Highness has been dead these four years." 
 
 "Dead four years? So much for man and his 
 futile dreams. Dead four years," absently. 
 
 "What did you say, Herr?" 
 
 "I? Nothing. How did he die?" 
 
 "He was thrown from his horse and killed. 
 But the duchess lives, and she is worthy of her 
 sire. Eh, Herr, there is a woman for you ! She 
 should sit on this throne; it is hers by right. 
 These Osians are aliens and were forced on us." 
 
 "It seems to me, young man, that you are talk- 
 ing treason." 
 
 "That is my business, Herr." Johann laughed. 
 "I am a socialist, and occasionally harangue for the 
 reds. And sometimes, when I am in need of 
 money, I find myself in the employ of 1hr> pollrc.' 1
 
 45 
 
 The muscles of the Englishman's jaws hard- 
 ened, then they relaxed. The expression on the 
 face of his guide was free from anything but bon- 
 homie. 
 
 "One must live/' Johann added deprecatingly. 
 
 "Yes, one must live/' replied the Englishman. 
 
 "0 ! but I could sell some fine secrets to the 
 Osians had they money to pay. Ach! but what 
 is the use? The king has no money; he is on 
 the verge of bankruptcy, and this pretty bit of 
 scenery is the cause of it." 
 
 "So you are a socialist?" said the Englishman, 
 passing over Johann's declamatory confidences. 
 
 "Yes, Herr. All men are brothers." 
 
 "Go to!" laughed the Englishman, "you aren't 
 even a second cousin to me. But stay, what place 
 is this we are passing?" indicating with his cane 
 a red-brick mansion which was fronted by broad 
 English lawns and protected from intrusion by a 
 high iron fence. 
 
 "That is the British legation, Herr." 
 
 The Englishman stopped and stared, unconscious 
 of the close scrutiny of the guide.- His eyes trav- 
 eled up the wide flags leading to the veranda, and 
 he drew a picture of a square-shouldered old man 
 tramping backward and forward, the wind tan- 
 gling his thin white hair, his hands behind his 
 back, his chin in his collar and at his heels a white 
 bulldog. Rapidly another picture came. It was an 
 English scene. And the echo of a voice fell on 
 his ears. "My way and the freedom of the house 
 and the key to the purse; your way and a closed 
 door while I live. You can go, but you can not
 
 46 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 come back. You have decided? Yes? Then good 
 morning." Thirteen years, thirteen years! He 
 had sacrificed the freedom of the house and the 
 key to the purse, the kind eyes and the warm pres- 
 sure of that old hand. And for what? Starva- 
 tion in the deserts, plenty of scars and little of 
 thanks, ingratitude and forgetfulness. 
 
 And now the kind eyes were closed and the 
 warm hand cold. 0, to recall the vanished face, 
 the silent voice, the misspent years, the April days 
 and their illusions! The Englishman took the 
 monocle from his eye and looked at it, wondering 
 what had caused the sudden blur. 
 
 "There was a fine old man there in the bygone 
 days," said Johann. 
 
 "And who was he?" 
 
 "Lord Fitzgerald, the British minister. He and 
 Leopold were close friends." Johann's investigat- 
 ing gaze went unrewarded. The Englishman's 
 face had resumed its expression of mild curiosity. 
 
 "Ah; a compatriot of mine," he said. Inwardly 
 he mused: "This guide is watching me; let him 
 catch me if he can. His duchess? I know far 
 too much of her!" 
 
 "He was a millionaire, too," went on Johann. 
 
 "Well, we can't all be rich. Come." 
 
 They crossed the Strasse and traversed the walk 
 at the side of the palace enclosures. The English- 
 man aimlessly trailed his cane along the green 
 pickets of the fence till they ended in a stone 
 arch which rose high over the driveway. The 
 ates were open, and coming toward the two wan- 
 derers as they stood at the curb rolled the royal
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 47 
 
 barouche, on each side of which rode a mounted 
 cuirassier, sashed and helmeted. The Englishman, 
 however, had observed nothing; he was lost in 
 some dream. 
 
 ''Look, Herr !" cried Johanu, rousing the other 
 liv a pull at the sleeve. "Look!" Socialist though 
 he claimed to be, Johann touched his cap. 
 
 In the barouche, leaning back among the black 
 velvet cushions, her face mellowed by the shade 
 of a small parasol, was a young woman of nine- 
 teen or twenty, as beautiful as a da Vinci freshly 
 conceived. The Englishman saw a pair of grave 
 dark eyes which, in the passing, met his and held 
 them. He caught his breath. 
 
 "Who is that?" he asked. 
 
 "That is her Royal Highness the Crown Princess 
 Alexia." 
 
 Afterward the Englishman remembered seeing a 
 white dog lying on the opposite seat.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 AN ADVENTURE WITH ROTALTT 
 
 Maurice Carewe, attached to the American le- 
 gation in Vienna, leaned against the stone parapet 
 which separated the terraced promenade of the 
 Continental Hotel from the Werter See, and won- 
 dered what had induced him to come to Bleiberg. 
 
 He had left behind him the glory of September 
 in Vienna, a city second only to Paris in fashion 
 and gaiety; Vienna, with its inimitable bands, its 
 incomparable gardens, its military maneuvers, its 
 salons, its charming women; and all for a fool's 
 errand. His Excellency was to blame. He had 
 casually dropped the remark that the duchy's min- 
 ister, Baron von Rumpf, had been given his pass- 
 ports as a persona non grata by the chancellor 
 of the kingdom, and that a declaration of war was 
 likely to follow. Maurice's dormant love of jour- 
 nalistic inquiry had become aroused, and he had 
 asked permission to investigate the affair, a favor 
 readily granted to him. 
 
 But here he was, on the scene, and nobody knew 
 
 anything, and nobody could tell anything. The 
 
 duchess had remained silent. Not unnaturally he 
 
 wished himself back in Vienna. There were no 
 
 48
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 49 
 
 court fetes in the city of Bleiberg. The king's 
 condition was too grave to permit them. And, be- 
 sides, there had been no real court in Bleiberg 
 for the space of ten years, so he was told. Those 
 solemn affairs of the archbishop's, given once the 
 week for the benefit of the corps diplomatique, 
 were dull and spiritless. Her Royal Highness was 
 seldom seen, save when she drove through the 
 streets. Persons who remembered the reign before 
 told what a mad, gay court it had been. Now it 
 was funereal. The youth and beauty of Bleiberg 
 held a court of its own. Royalty was not in- 
 cluded, nor did it ask to be. 
 
 A strange capital, indeed, Maurice reflected, as he 
 gazed down into the cool, brown water. He re- 
 gretted his caprice. There were pretty women in 
 Vienna. Some of them belonged to the American 
 colony. They danced well, they sang and played 
 and rode. He had taught some of them how to 
 fence, and he could not remember the times he 
 had been '^buttoned" while paying too much atten- 
 tion to their lips and eyes. For Maurice loved a 
 thing of beauty, were it a woman, a horse or a 
 Mediterranean sunset. What a difference between 
 these two years in Vienna and that year in Cal- 
 cutta ! He never would forget the dingy office, 
 with its tarnished sign, "U. S. Consul," tacked in- 
 securely on the door, and the utter loneliness. 
 
 He cast a pebble into the lake, and watched the 
 ripples roll away and disappear, and ruminated on 
 a life full of color and vicissitude. He remem- 
 bered the Arizona days, the endless burning sand, 
 the dull routine of a cavalry trooper, the lithe
 
 50 THEPUPPET CROWN 
 
 brown bodies of the Apaches, the first skirmish 
 and the last. From a soldier he had turned jour- 
 nalist, tramped the streets of Washington in rain 
 and shine, living as a man lived who must. 
 
 One day his star had shot up from the nadir of ob- 
 scurity, not very far, but enough to bring his 
 versatility under the notice of the discerning Sec- 
 retary of State, who, having been a friend of the 
 father, offered the son a berth in the diplomatic 
 corps. A consulate in a South American republic, 
 during a revolutionary crisis, where he had shown 
 consummate skill in avoiding political complica- 
 tions (and where, by a shrewd speculation in gold, 
 he had feathered his nest for his declining years), 
 proved that the continual incertitude of a journal- 
 istic career is a fine basis for diplomatic work. 
 From South America he had gone to Calcutta, 
 thence to Austria. 
 
 He was only twenty-nine, which age in some is 
 youth. He possessed an old man's wisdom and a 
 boy's exuberance of spirits. He laughed whenever 
 he could; to him life was a panorama of vivid 
 pictures, the world a vast theater to which some- 
 how he had gained admission. His beardless 
 countenance had deceived more than one finished 
 diplomat, for it was difficult to believe that be- 
 hind it lay an earnest purpose and a daring cour- 
 age. If he bragged a little, quizzed graybeards, 
 sought strange places, sported with convention, and 
 eluded women, it was due to his restlessness. Yet, 
 he had the secretiveness of sand ; he absorbed, but 
 he revealed nothing. He knew his friends ; they 
 thought they knew him. It was his delight to
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 51 
 
 have women think him a butterfly, men write him 
 down a fool; it covered up his real desires and 
 left him free. 
 
 What cynicism he had was mellowed by a fanci- 
 ful humor. Whether with steel or with words, he 
 was a master of fence; and if at times some one 
 got under his guard, that some one knew it not. 
 To let your enemy see that he has hit you is to 
 give him confidence. He saw humor where no 
 one else saw it, and tragedy where it was not sus- 
 pected. He was one of those rare individuals 
 who, when the opportunity of chance refuses to 
 come, makes one. 
 
 "Germany and Austria are great countries," he 
 mused, lighting a cigar. "Every hundredth man 
 is a king, one in fifty is a duke, every tenth man 
 is a prince, and one can not take a corner with- 
 out bumping into a count or a baron. Even the 
 hotel waiters are disquieting; there is that embar- 
 rassing atmosphere about them which suggests no- 
 bility in durance vile. As for me, I prefer Ken- 
 tucky, where every man is a colonel, and you 
 never make a mistake. And these kingdoms !" 
 He indulged in subdued laughter. "They are al- 
 ways like comic operas. I find myself looking 
 around every moment for the merry villagers so 
 happy and so gay (at fifteen dollars the week), 
 the eternal innkeeper and the perennial soubrette 
 his daughter, the low comedian and the self-con- 
 scious tenor. Heigho ! and not a soul in Bleiberg 
 knows me, nor cares. 
 
 "I'd rather talk five minutes to a pretty woman 
 than eat stuffed pheasants the year around, and
 
 52 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 the stuffed pheasant is about all Bleiberg can boast 
 of. Well, here goes for a voyage of discovery;" 
 and he passed down the stone steps to the pier, 
 quite unconscious of the admiring glances of the 
 women who fluttered back and forth on the wide 
 balconies above. 
 
 It was four o'clock in the afternoon; a fresh 
 wind redolent of pine and resin blew across the 
 lake. Maurice climbed into a boat and pulled 
 away with a strong, swift stroke, enjoying the lib- 
 eration of his muscles. A quarter of a mile out 
 he let the oars drift and took his bearings. He 
 saw the private gardens of the king and the arch- 
 bishop, and, convinced that a closer view would 
 afford him entertainment, he caught up the oars 
 again and moved inland. 
 
 The royal gardens ran directly into the watei, 
 while those of the archbishop were protected by 
 a wall of brick five or six feet in height, in the 
 center of which was a gate opening on the water. 
 Behind the gate was a small boat dock. Maurice 
 plied the oars vigorously. He skirted the roya! 
 gardens, and the smell of newly mown lawns filled 
 the air. Soon he was gliding along the sides of 
 the moss-grown walls. A bird chirped in the over- 
 hanging boughs. He was about to cast loose the 
 oars again, when the boat was brought to a vio- 
 lent stop. A few yards waterward from the gate, 
 there lay, hidden in the shadowed water, a sunken 
 pier. On one of the iron piles the boat had be- 
 come impaled. 
 
 Maurice was tumbled into the bow of the boat, 
 which began rapidly to fill. First he swore, then
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 53 
 
 he laughed, for he was possessed of infinite good 
 humor. The only thing left for him to do was to 
 swim for the gate. With a rueful glance at his 
 thin clothes, he dropped himself over the side of the 
 wreck and struck out toward the gate. The water, 
 having its source from the snowclad mountains, was 
 icy. He was glad enough to grasp the lower bars 
 of the gate and draw himself up. He was on the 
 point of climbing over, when a picture presented 
 itself to his streaming eyes. 
 
 Seated on a bench made of twisted vine was 
 a young girl. She held in her hand a book, 
 but she was not reading it. She was scanning 
 the unwritten pages of some reverie; her eyes, 
 dark, large and wistful, were holding communion 
 with the god of dreams. A wisp of hair, glossy 
 as coal, trembled against a cheek white as the 
 gown she wore. 
 
 At her side, blinking in the last rays of the 
 warm sun, sat a bulldog, toothless and old. 
 Now and then a sear leaf, falling in a zig- 
 zag course, rustled past his ears, and he would 
 shake his head as if he, too, were dreaming and 
 the leaves disturbed him. All at once he sniffed, 
 his ears stood forward, and a low growl broke the 
 enchantment. The girl, on discovering Maurice, 
 closed the book and rose. The dog, still growling, 
 jumped down and trotted to the gate. Maurice 
 thought that it was time to speak. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," he said, "pardon- this intru- 
 sion, but my boat has met with an accident." 
 
 The girl came to the gate. "Why, Monsieur," 
 she exclaimed, "you are wet!"
 
 54 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "That is true," replied Maurice, his teeth be- 
 ginning to knock together. "I was forced to 
 swim. If you will kindly open the gate and guide 
 me to the street, I shall be much obliged to you." 
 
 The gate swung outward, and in a moment 
 Maurice was on dry land, or the next thing to it, 
 which was the boat-dock. 
 
 "Thank you," he said. 
 
 "0 ! And you might have been drowned," com- 
 passion lighting her beautiful eyes. "Sit down on 
 the bench, Monsieur, for you must be weak. And 
 it was that sunken pier? I shall speak to Mon- 
 seigneur; he must have it removed. Bull, stop 
 growling; you are very impolite; the gentleman is 
 in distress." 
 
 Maurice sat down, not because he was weak, but 
 because the desire to gain the street had suddenly 
 subsided. Who was this girl who could say "must" 
 to the formidable prelate? His quick eye noticed 
 that she showed no sign of embarrassment. In- 
 deed, she impressed him as one who was superior 
 to that petty disturbance of collected thought. 
 Somehow it seemed to him, as she stood there 
 looking down at him, that he, too, should be 
 standing. But she put forth a hand with gen- 
 tle insistence when he made as though to rise. 
 What an exquisite face, he thought. Against the 
 whiteness of her skin her lips burned like poppy 
 petals. Innocent, inquisitive eyes smiled gently, 
 eyes in whose tranquil depths lay the glory of the 
 world, asleep. Presently a color, faint and fugi- 
 tive, dimmed the whiteness of her cheeks. Maurice,
 
 55 
 
 conscious of his rudeness and of a warmth in his 
 own cheeks, instinctively lowered his gaze. 
 
 "Pardon my rudeness," he said. 
 
 "What is your name, Monsieur," she asked 
 calmly. 
 
 "It is Maurice Carewe. I am living in Vienna. 
 I came to Bleiberg for pleasure, but the first day 
 has not been propitious," with an apologetic glance 
 at his dripping clothes. 
 
 "Maurice Carewe," slowly repeating the full 
 name as if to imprint it on her memory. "You 
 are English?" 
 
 He said: "No; I am one of those dreadful 
 Yankees you have possibly read about." 
 
 Her teeth gleamed. "Yes, I have heard of them. 
 But you do not appear so very dreadful; though 
 at present you are truly not at your best. What 
 is this this Yankeeland like?" 
 
 "It would take me ever so long to tell you about 
 it, it is such a great country." 
 
 "You are a patriot !" clapping her hands. "No 
 other country is so fine and large and great as 
 your own. But tell me, is it as large as Austria?" 
 
 "Austria? You will not be offended if I tell 
 you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well," with fun in his eyes, "it is my opinion 
 that I could hide Austria in my country so thor- 
 oughly that nobody would ever be able to find it 
 again." He wondered how she would accept this 
 statement. 
 
 She lifted her chin and laughed, and the bull- 
 dog wagged his tail, as he always did when mirth
 
 56 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 touched her. He jumped up beside Maurice and 
 looked into his face. Maurice patted his broad 
 head, and he submitted. The girl looked rather 
 surprised. 
 
 "Are you a magician?" she asked. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Bull never makes friends." 
 
 "But I do," said Maurice; "perhaps he under- 
 stands that, and comes half-way. But it is rather 
 strange to see a bulldog in this part of the coun- 
 try." 
 
 "He was given to me, years ago, by an English- 
 man." 
 
 "That accounts for it." He was experiencing a 
 deal of cold, but he dared not mention it. "And 
 may I ask your name?" 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur," shyly, "to tell you my name 
 would be to frighten you away." 
 
 "I am sure nothing could do that," he de- 
 clared earnestly. Had he been thinking of aught 
 but her eyes he might have caught the signifi- 
 cance of her words. But, then, the cold was 
 numbing. 
 
 She surveyed him with critical eyes. She saw 
 a clean-shaven face, brown, handsome and eager, 
 merry blue eyes, a chin firm and aggressive, a 
 mischievous mouth, a forehead which showed the 
 man of thought, a slim athletic form which showed 
 the man of action all of which combined to pro- 
 duce that indescribable air which attaches itself 
 to the gentleman. 
 
 "It is Alexia," she said, after some hesitation, 
 watching him closely to observe the effect.
 
 THF PUPPET CROWN 57 
 
 But he was as far away as ever. "Alexia what?" 
 "Only Alexia," a faint coquetry stealing into 
 
 her glance. 
 
 "0, then you are probably a maid?" 
 "Y es. But you are disappointed?" 
 "No, indeed. You have put me more at ease. 
 
 1 suppose you serve the princess?" 
 "Whenever I can," demurely. 
 He could not keep his eyes from hers. "They 
 
 say that she is a very lonely princess." 
 
 "So lonely." And the coquetry faded from her 
 
 eyes as her glance wandered waterward and became 
 
 fixed on some object invisible and far away. 
 
 "Poor lonely princess!" 
 
 Maurice was growing colder and colder, but he 
 
 did not mind. He had wished for some woman 
 
 to talk to; his wish had been granted. "I feel 
 
 sorry for her, if what they say is true," having 
 
 no other words. 
 
 "And what do they say, Monsieur?" 
 
 "That she and her father have been socially 
 
 ostracized. I should be proud to be her friend." 
 
 Once the words were gone from him, he saw their 
 
 silliness. "A presumptuous statement," he added: 
 
 "I am an obscure foreigner." 
 
 "Friendship, Monsieur, is a thing we all should 
 
 prize, all the more so when it is disinterested." 
 He said rapidly, for fear she might hear his 
 
 teeth chatter: "They say she is very beautiful. 
 
 Tell me what she is like." 
 
 "I am no judge of what men call beauty. As 
 
 to her character, I believe I may recommend that. 
 She is good."
 
 58 
 
 He was sure that merriment twitched the cor- 
 ners of her lips, and he grew thoughtful. "Alexia. 
 Is that not her Highness's name also?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur; we have the same names." Her 
 eyes fell, and she began to finger the pages of the 
 book. 
 
 "I am rested now," he said, with a sudden dis- 
 trust. "I thank you." 
 
 "Come, then, and I will show you the way to 
 the gate." 
 
 "I am sorry to have troubled you," he said. 
 
 She did not reply, and together they walked up 
 the path. The plants were dying, and the odor 
 of decay hovered about them. Splashes of rich 
 vermilion crowned the treetops, leaves of gold, 
 russet and faded green rustled on the ground. 
 The sun was gone behind the hills, the lake was 
 tinted with salmon and dun, and Maurice (who 
 honestly would have liked to run) was turning 
 purple, not from atmospheric effect, but from the 
 partly congealed state of his blood. Already he 
 was thinking that his adventure had turned out 
 rather well. It was but a simple task for a man 
 of his imagination to construct a pretty romance, 
 with a kingdom for a background. A maid of 
 honor, perhaps; no matter, he would find means 
 for future communication. A glamour had fallen 
 upon him. 
 
 As to the girl, who had scarce spoken to a 
 dozen young men in her life, she was comparing 
 four 'faces; one of a visionary character of which 
 she had dreamed for ten years, and three which 
 had recently entered into the small circle of her
 
 59 
 
 affairs. It was little pleasure to her to talk to 
 those bald diplomats, who were always saying 
 vvhat they did not mean, and meaning what they 
 did not say. And the }'oung officers in the palace 
 never presumed to address her unless spoken to. 
 
 What a monotonous life it was ! She was like a 
 bird in a cage, ever longing for freedom, not of 
 the air, /but of impulse. To be permitted to yield 
 to the impulses of the heart ! What a delightful 
 thought that was ! But she, she seemed apart from 
 all which was desirable to youth. Women courte- 
 sied to her, men touched their hats; but homage 
 was not what she wanted. To be free, that was 
 all; to come and go at will; to laugh and to sing. 
 But ever the specter of royal dignity walked be- 
 side her and held her captive. 
 
 She was to wed a man on whom she looked 
 with indifference, but wed him she must; it was 
 written. A toy of ambition, she was neither more 
 nor less. Ah, to be as her maids, not royal, but 
 free. Of the three new faces one belonged to the 
 man whom she was to wed; another was a tall, 
 light-haired man whom she had seen from her 
 carriage: the last walked by her side. And some- 
 how, the visionary face, the faces of the man whom 
 she was to wed and the light-haired man suddenly 
 gn>\v indistinct. She glanced from the corner of 
 her eyes at Maurice, but meeting his glance, in 
 which lay something that caused her uneasiness, 
 her gaze dropped to the path. 
 
 "I shall be pleased to tell her Highness tnat a 
 stranger, who has not met her, who does not even 
 suspect her rebel spirit, desires to be her friend."
 
 60 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "0, Mademoiselle/' he cried in alarm, "that de- 
 sire was expressed in confidence/' 
 
 "I know it. It is for that very reason I wish 
 her to know. Have no fear, Monsieur;" and she 
 laughed without mirth. "Her Highness will not 
 send you to prison." 
 
 Close at hand Maurice discovered a cuirassier, 
 who, on seeing them, saluted and stood attention. 
 Maurice was puzzled. 
 
 "Lieutenant," said the girl, "Monsieur Carewe?" 
 turning to Maurice. 
 
 "Yes, that is the name." 
 
 "Well, then, Monsieur Carewe has met with an 
 accident; please escort him to the gate. I trust 
 you will not suffer any inconvenience from the 
 cold. Good evening, Monsieur Carewe." 
 
 She retraced her steps clown the path. The 
 bulldog followed. Once he looked back at Maurice, 
 and stopped as if undecided, then went on. Mau- 
 rice stared at the figure of the girl until it van- 
 ished behind a clump of rose bushes. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur Carewe !" said the Lieutenant, 
 a broad smile under his mustache. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Lieutenant. May I ask 
 you 'who she is ?" 
 
 "What! You do not know?*' 
 
 Maurice suddenly saw light. "Her Royal High- 
 ness?" blankly. 
 
 "Her Royal Highness, God bless her!" cried the 
 Lieutenant heartily. 
 
 "Amen to that," replied Maurice, his agitation 
 visible even to the officer. 
 
 They arrived at the gate in silence. The cuiras-
 
 THE PUT PET CROWN 61 
 
 iier raised the bar, touched his helmet, and said, 
 with something like an amused twinkle in his 
 eyes: "Would Monsieur like to borrow my helmet 
 for a space?" 
 
 Maurice put up a hand to his water-soaked 
 hair, and gave an ejaculation of dismay. He had 
 forgotten all about his hat, which was by now, in 
 all probabilities, at the bottom of the lake. 
 
 "Curse the luck!" he said, in English. 
 
 "Cur^e the want of it, I should say!" was the 
 merry rejoinder, also in English. 
 
 Maurice threw back his head and laughed, and 
 the cuirassier caught the infection. 
 
 "However, there is some compensation for the 
 hat," said the cuirassier, straightening his hel- 
 met. "You are the first stranger who has spoken 
 to her Highness this many a day. Did the dog 
 take to your calves? Well, never mind; he has 
 no teeth. It was only day before yesterday that 
 the Marshal swore he'd have the dog shot. Poor 
 dog ! He is growing blind, too, or he'd never 
 have risked his gums on the Marshal, who is all 
 shins. If you will wait I will fetch you one of 
 the archbishop's skull caps." 
 
 "Don't trouble yourself," laughed Maurice. 
 "What I need is not a hat, but a towel, and I'll 
 get that at the hotel. George! I feel so like an 
 ass. What is your name, Lieutenant?" 
 
 "Von Mitter, Carl von Mitter, at your service. 
 And you are Monsieur Carewe." 
 
 "Of the American legation in Vienna. Thanks 
 for vour trouble."
 
 62 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 "Xone at all. You had better hurry along; 
 your nails are growing black." 
 
 Maurice passed into the street. "Her Royal 
 Highness !" he muttered. "The crown princess, 
 and I never suspected. Her name is Alexia, and 
 she serves the princess whenever she can! Maurice, 
 you are an ass!" 
 
 Having arrived at this conclusion, and brush- 
 ing the dank hair from his eyes, he thrust his 
 hands into his oozing pockets, and proceeded 
 across the square toward the Continental, wonder- 
 ing if there was a rear entrance. Happily the 
 adventure absorbed all his thoughts. He was quite 
 unobservant of the marked attention bestowed on 
 him. Carriages filled the Strasse, and many per- 
 sons moved along the walks. It was the prom- 
 enade hour. The water, which still dripped from 
 his clothes and trickled from his shoes, left a con- 
 spicuous trail behind; and this alone, without the 
 absence of a hat, would have made him the object 
 of amused and wondering smiles. 
 
 A gendarme stared at him, but seeing that he 
 walked straight, said nothing. Maurice, however, 
 was serenely unaware of what was passing around 
 him. He did not notice even the tall, broad-shoul- 
 dered man who, with a gun under his arm, brushed 
 past him, followed by a round-faced German over 
 whose back was slung a game-bag. The man with 
 the gun was also oblivious of his surroundings. He 
 bumped into several persons, who scowled at him, 
 but offered no remonstrance after having taken his 
 measure. The German put his pipe into his 
 pocket and advanced a step.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 63 
 
 "The other gun, Herr," he said, "would have 
 meant the boar." 
 
 "So it would, perhaps," was the reply. 
 
 "We've done pretty good work these two days," 
 went on the German; but as the other appeared 
 not to have heard he fell to the rear again, a sar- 
 donic smile flitting over his oily face. 
 
 When Maurice reached the hotel cafe he left 
 an order for a cognac to be sent to his room, whither 
 he repaired at once. As he got into dry clothes 
 he mused. 
 
 "I wonder what sort of a man that crown prince 
 is? Now, if I were he, an army could not keep 
 me away from Bleiberg. Either he is no judge 
 of beauty, or the peasant girls hereabout are some- 
 thing extraordinary. Pshaw ! a man always makes 
 an ass of 'himself on his wedding eve; the crown 
 prince is simply starting in early. I believe I'll 
 hang on here till the wedding day; a royal mar- 
 riage is one of those things which I have yet to 
 see. I have a fortnight or more to knock around 
 in. I should like to know what the duchess will 
 eventually do." 
 
 He sipped the last drop of the cognac and went 
 down the stairs.
 
 CHAPTEK V 
 
 BEHIND THE PUPPET BOOTH 
 
 While the absent-minded hunter strode down 
 toward the lower town, and Maurice sipped 
 his cognac, the king lay in his bed in the palace 
 and aimlessly fingered the counterpane. There 
 was now no beauty in his face. It was furrowed 
 and pale, and an endless fever burned in the 
 sunken eyes eyes like coals, which suddenly -flare 
 before they turn to ash. 
 
 The archbishop nor the chancellor could see 
 anything in the dim corners of the royal bed 
 chamber, but he could. It was the mocking finger 
 of death, and it was leveled at him. Spring had 
 come, and summer and autumn and winter, and 
 spring again, but he had not wandered through 
 the green fields, except in dreams, and the byways 
 he loved knew him no more. Ah, to sit still like 
 a spectator and to see the world pass by ! To be 
 a part of it, and yet not of it! To see the glory 
 of strength and vigor just beyond one's grasp, the 
 staffs to lean on crumble to the touch, and the 
 stars of hope fade away one by one from the 
 firmament of one's dreams ! Here was weariness 
 for which there was no remedy. 
 
 64
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 65 
 
 Day by day time pressed him on toward the in- 
 evitable. No human hand could stay him. He 
 could think, but he could not act. He could move, 
 but he could not stand nor walk. And that philos- 
 ophy which had in other days sustained him was 
 shattered and threadbare. He was dead, yet he 
 lived. Fate has so many delicate ironies. 
 
 He had tried to make his people love him, only to 
 acquire their hate. He had reduced taxation, only 
 to be scorned. He had made the city beautiful, 
 only to be cursed. A paralytic, the theme of 
 ribald verse, the butt of wineroom wits, the ob- 
 ject of contumely to his people, his beneficiaries! 
 
 The ingratitude of kings bites not half so deep as 
 the ingratitude of the people. Tears filled his 
 eyes, and he fumbled his lips. There were only 
 two bright spots in his futile life. The first was 
 his daughter, who read to him, who was the first 
 in the morning to greet him and last at night to 
 leave him. The second was the evening hour when 
 the archbishop and the chancellor came in to dis- 
 cuss the affairs of state. 
 
 "And Prince Frederick has not yet been heard 
 from?" was his first inquiry. 
 
 "No, Sire," answered the chancellor. "The mat- 
 ter is altogether mysterious. The police can find 
 no trace of him. He left Carnavia for Bleiberg; 
 he stopped at Ehrenstein, directed his suite to pro- 
 ceed; there, all ends. The ambassador from Car- 
 navia approached me to-day. He scouts the idea 
 of a peasant girl, and hinted at other things." 
 
 "Yes," said the king, "there is something be- 
 hind all this. Frederick is not a youth of pecca-
 
 66 THE PUPPET C II \V X 
 
 dilloes. Something has happened to him. But 
 God send him safe and sound to us, so much de- 
 pends on him. And Alexia?" 
 
 "Says nothing/' the archbishop answered, "a way 
 with her when troubled." 
 
 "And my old friend, Lord Fitzgerald?" 
 
 The prelate shook his head sadly. "We have 
 just been made acquainted with his death. God 
 rest his kindly soul." 
 
 The king sank deeper into his pillows. 
 
 "But we shall hear from his son within a few 
 days," continued the prelate, taking the king's 
 hand in his own. "My son, cease to worry. 
 Alexia's future is in good hands. I have confi- 
 dence that the public debt will be liquidated on 
 the twentieth." 
 
 "Or renewed," said the chancellor. "Your 
 Majesty must not forget that Prince Frederick 
 sacrifices his own private fortune to adjust our 
 indebtedness. That is the wedding gift which he 
 offers to her Highness. One way or the other, we 
 have nothing to fear." 
 
 "0!" cried the king, "I had forgotten that 
 magnanimity. His disappearance is no longer a 
 mystery. He is dead." 
 
 His auditors could not repress the start which 
 this declaration caused them to make. 
 
 "Sire," said the chancellor, quietly, "princes 
 are not assassinated these days. Our worry is 
 perhaps all needless. The prince is young, and 
 sometimes youth flings off the bridle and runs 
 away. But he loves her Highness, and the Carna- 
 vians are not fickle."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 67 
 
 The prelate and the statesman had different ideas 
 in regard to the peasant girl. To the prelate a 
 woman was an unknown quantity, and he frowned. 
 The statesman, who had once been young, knew a 
 deal about woman, and he smiled. 
 
 "Sometimes, my friends/' said the king, "I can 
 see beyond the human glance. I hear the crum- 
 bling of walls. But for that lonely child I could 
 die in peace. The crown I wear is of lead; God 
 hasten the day that lifts it from my brow." When 
 the king spoke again, he said: "And that inso- 
 lent Von Rumpf is gone at last? I am easier. 
 He should have been sent about his business ten 
 years ago. What does Madame the duchess say?" 
 
 "So little," answered the chancellor, "that I be- 
 gin to distrust her silence. But she is a wise 
 woman, though her years are but five and twenty, 
 and she will not make any foolish declaration of 
 war which would only redound to her chagrin." 
 
 "What is the fascination in these crowns of 
 straw?" said the king to the prelate. "Ah, my 
 father, you strive for the crown to come; and yet 
 your earnest but misguided efforts placed this 
 earthly one on my head. You were ambitious for 
 me." 
 
 "Nay," and the prelate bent his head. "It was 
 self that spoke, worldly aggrandizement. I wished 
 God forgive me! to administer not to the 
 prince but to the king. I am punished. The 
 crown has broken your life. It was the passing 
 glory of the world; and I fell." 
 
 "And were not my eyes as dazzled by the crown 
 as yours were by the robes? Why did we leave
 
 68 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 the green hills of Osia? What destiny writes, fate 
 must unfold. And oh, the dreams I had of being 
 great ! I am fifty-eight and you are seventy. 
 And look; I am a broken twig, and you tower 
 above me like an ancient oak, and as strong." To 
 the chancellor he said : "And what is the budget ?" 
 
 "Sire, it is fairly quiet in the lower town. The 
 native troops have been paid, and all signs of dis- 
 content abated. The duchess can do nothing but 
 replace von Rumpf. The Marshal is a straw in 
 the wind; von Wallenstein and Mollendorf, I hold 
 a sword above their necks. Nearly half the Diet 
 is with us. There has been some strange med- 
 dling in the customs. Englishmen have brought 
 me complaints, through the British legation, re- 
 garding such inspections as were never before 
 heard of in a country at peace. I consulted the 
 chief inspector and he affirmed the matter. He 
 was under orders of the minister of police. It 
 appears to me that a certain Englishman is to be 
 kept out of the country for reasons well known 
 to us. I have suspended police power over the 
 customs. Ah, Sire, if you would but agree with 
 Monseigneur to dismiss the cabinet." 
 
 "It is too late," said the king. 
 
 "There is only one flaw," continued the chan- 
 cellor. "This flaw is Colonel Beauvais, chief in 
 command of the cuirassiers, who in authority stands 
 between the Marshal and General Kronau. I fear 
 him. Why? Instinct. He is too well informed 
 of my projects for one thing; he laughs when I 
 suggest in military affairs. Who is he? A French- 
 man, if one may trust to a name; an Austrian, if
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN G9 
 
 one may trust from whence he came, recommended 
 by the premier himself. He entered the cuiras- 
 siers as a Captain. You yourself, Sire, made him 
 what he is the real military adviser of the king- 
 dom. But what of his past? No one knows, un- 
 less it be von Wallenstein, his intimate. I, for 
 one, while I may be wrong, trust only those whose 
 past I know, and even then only at intervals." 
 
 "Colonel Beauvais?" murmured the king. "I 
 am sure that you are unjustly suspicious. How 
 many times have I leaned on his stout arm ! He 
 taught Alexia a thousand tricks of horse, so that 
 to-day she rides as no other woman in the king- 
 dom rides. Would that I stood half so straight 
 and looked at the world half so fearlessly. He is 
 the first soldier in the kingdom." 
 
 "All men are honest in your Majesty's eyes," 
 said the archbishop. 
 
 "All save the man within me," replied the king. 
 
 At this juncture the king's old valet came in 
 with the evening meal; and soon after the prelate 
 and the chancellor withdrew frqm the chamber. 
 
 "How long will he live ?" asked the latter. 
 
 "A year; perhaps only till to-morrow. Ah, had 
 he but listened to me several years ago, all this 
 would not have come to pass. He would see 
 nothing; he persisted in dreams. With the death 
 of Josef he was convinced that his enemies had 
 ceased to be. Had he listened, I should have dis- 
 missed the cabinet, and found enough young blood 
 to answer my purposes; I should have surrounded 
 him with a mercenary army two thousand strong; 
 by now he should have stood strongly entrenched.
 
 70 THE PUPPET CROWH 
 
 "They have robbed him, but you and I were per- 
 mitted to do nothing. Where is the prosperity 
 of which we formerly boasted? I, too, hear 
 crumbling walls. Yet, the son of this English- 
 man, whose strange freak is still unaccountable, 
 will come at the appointed time; I know the race. 
 He will renew the loan for another ten years. 
 What a fancy ! Lord Fitzgerald was an eccentric 
 man. Given a purpose, he pursued it to the end, 
 neither love nor friendship, nor fear swerved him. 
 Do you know that he made a vow that Duke 
 Josef should never sit on this throne, nor his de- 
 scendants? What were five millions to him, if in 
 giving them he realized the end? The king would 
 never explain the true cause of this Englishman's 
 folly, but I know that it was based on revenge, the 
 cause of which also is a mystery. If only the 
 prince were here!" 
 
 "He will come; youth will be youth." 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 "You have never been young." 
 
 "Not in that particular sense to which you re- 
 fer," dryly. 
 
 In the chamber of finance Colonel Beauvais 
 leaned over the desk and perused the writing on 
 a slip of paper which the minister had given him. 
 Enough daylight remained to permit the letters to 
 stand out legibly. When he had done the Colonel 
 tossed back the missive, and the minister tore it 
 into shreds and dropped them into the waste 
 basket.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 71 
 
 "So much for your pains," said Beauvais. "The 
 spy, who has eaten up ten thousand crowns, is not 
 worth his salt. He has watched this man Ham- 
 ilton for two days, been his guide in the hills, 
 and yet learns nothing. And the rigor of the cus- 
 toms is a farce." 
 
 "This day," replied the minister, "the police 
 lost its jurisdiction over the customs. Complaints 
 have been entered at the British legation, which 
 forwarded them to the chancellor." 
 
 "0 ho!" The Colonel pulled his mustache. 
 
 "I warned you against this. The chancellor is 
 a man to be respected, whatever his beliefs. I 
 warned you and Mollendorf of the police what the 
 result would be. The chancellor has a hard hand 
 when it falls. He was always bold; now he is 
 more so since he practically stands alone. In 
 games of chance one always should play close. You 
 are in a hurry." 
 
 "I have waited six years." 
 
 "And I have waited fourteen." 
 
 "Well, then, I shall pass into the active. I 
 shall watch this Englishman myself. He is likely 
 to prove the agent. Count, the time for waiting 
 is gone. If the debt is liquidated or renewed 
 and there is Prince Frederick to keep in mind 
 we shall have played and lost. Disgrace for you; 
 for me well, perhaps there is a power behind me 
 too strong. The chancellor? Pouf! I have no 
 fear of him. But you who laugh at the arch- 
 bishop " 
 
 "He is too old." 
 
 "So jou say. But he has dreams unknown to
 
 72 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 us. He has ceased to act; why? He is waiting 
 for the curtain to rise. Nothing escapes him ; 
 he is letting us go to what end we will, only, 
 if we do not act at once, to draw us to a sudden 
 halt. Now to this meddling Englishman: we have 
 offered him a million five millions for four. He 
 laughs. He is a millionaire. With characteristic 
 bombast he declares that money has no charms. 
 For six months, since his father's death, we have 
 hounded him, in vain. It is something I can not 
 understand. What is Leopold to these English- 
 men that they risk a princely fortune to secure 
 him his throne? Friendship? Bah, there is none." 
 
 "Not in France nor in Austria. But this man 
 was an Englishman; they leave legacies of friend- 
 ship." 
 
 The Colonel walked to the window and looked 
 down into the gardens. He remained there for a 
 time. Von Wallenstein eyed him curiously. 
 Presently the soldier returned to his seat. 
 
 "We are crossing a chasm; a man stands in our 
 way; as we can not go around him, we, being the 
 stronger, push him aside. Eh?" 
 
 "You would not kill " began the minister. 
 
 "Let us use the French meaning of the word 
 'suppress/ And why not? Ambition, wherever it 
 goes, leaves a trail of bloodl What is a human 
 life in this game we play? A leaf, a grain of 
 sand." 
 
 "But, since the prince promises to liquidate the 
 debt, what matters it if the Englishman conies? 
 It is all one and the same."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 73 
 
 "Within twenty, nay, within fifteen days, what 
 may not happen ?" 
 
 "You are ambitious/' said von Wallenstein, 
 
 slyly- 
 
 "And who is not?" 
 
 "Is a Marshal's baton so much, then, above your 
 present position? You are practically the head of 
 the army." 
 
 "A valiant army!" laughing; "five thousand 
 men. Why, Madame the duchess has six thousand 
 and three batteries." 
 
 "Her army of six thousand is an expedient; you 
 can raise volunteers to the amount of ten thou- 
 sand." 
 
 "To be sure I could; but supposing I did not 
 want to ?" 
 
 The minister dropped his gaze and began fin- 
 gering the paper cutter. The Colonel's real pur- 
 pose was still an enigma to him. "Come, you 
 have the confidence of the king, the friendship of 
 her Royal Highness. What do you gain in serving 
 us? The baton?" 
 
 "You embarrass me. Questions? I should not 
 like to lie to you. Batons were fine things when 
 Louises and Napoleons conferred them. I have 
 thrown my dice into the common cup; let that be 
 sufficient." 
 
 "A man who comes from a noble house such as 
 you come from " 
 
 "Ah, count, that was never to be referred to. 
 Be content with my brain and sword. And then, 
 there is the old saying, Give a man an ell, and
 
 74 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 look to your rod. We are all either jackals or 
 lions, puppets or men behind the booth. I am a 
 lion." He rse, drew his saber half-way from the 
 scabbard, and sent it slithering back. "In a fort- 
 night we put it to the touch to win or lose it all, 
 as the poet says. Every man for himself, and let 
 the strongest win, say I." 
 
 "You are playing two games," coldly. 
 
 "And you? Is it for pure love of Madame the 
 duchess that you risk your head? Come, as you 
 say; admit that you wish to see my hand without 
 showing yours. A baton is not much for me, as 
 you have hinted, but it is all that was promised 
 me. And you, if we win, will still be minister of 
 finances? What is that maggot I see behind your 
 eyes? Is it not spelled 'chancellor ? But, remem- 
 ber, Madame has friends to take care of in the 
 event of our success. We can not have all the 
 spoils. To join the kingdom and the duchy will 
 create new offices, to be sure, but we can have only 
 part of them. As to games, I shall, out of the 
 kindness in my heart, tell you that I am not play- 
 ing two, but three. Guess them if you can. Xext 
 to the chancellorship is the embassy to Vienna, and 
 an embassy to Paris is to be created. Madame is 
 a superior woman. Who knows?" with a smile 
 that caused the other to pale. 
 
 "You are mad to dream of that." 
 
 "As you say, I come of a noble house/' care- 
 lessly. 
 
 "You are mad." 
 
 "No, count," the soldier replied. "I have what
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 75 
 
 Balzac calls a thirst for a full life in a short 
 space." 
 
 "I would give a deal to read what is going on 
 in that head of yours." 
 
 "Doubtless. But what is to become of our 
 friends the Marshal and Mollendorf? What will 
 be left for them? Perhaps there will be a cham- 
 ber of war, a chamber of the navy. As a naval 
 minister the Marshal would be nicely placed. 
 There would be no expense of building ships or 
 paying sailors, which would speak well for the 
 economy of the new government. The Marshal is 
 old; we shall send him to Servia. At least the 
 office will pay both his vanity and purse to an ex- 
 tent equal to that of his present office. By the 
 way, nothing has yet been heard from Prince 
 Frederick. Ah, these young men, these plump 
 peasant girls !" 
 
 Both laughed. 
 
 "Till this evening, then;" and the Colonel went 
 from the room. 
 
 The minister of finance applied a match to the 
 tapers. He held the burning match aloft and con- 
 templated the door through which the soldier had 
 gone. The sting of the incipient flame aroused 
 him. 
 
 "What," he mused aloud, as he arranged the 
 papers on his desk, "is his third game?" 
 
 "It appears to me," said a voice from the wall 
 behind, "that the same question arises in both our 
 minds." 
 
 The minister wheeled his chair, his mouth and 
 brows puckered in dismay. From a secret panel
 
 70 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 in the wall there stepped forth a tall, thin, sour- 
 visaged old man of military presence. He calmly 
 sat down in the chair which Beauvais had vacated. 
 
 "I had forgotten all about you, Marshal !" ex- 
 claimed the count, smiling uneasily. 
 
 "A statement which I am most ready to be- 
 lieve," replied old Marshal Kampf, with a glance 
 which caused the minister yet more uneasiness. 
 "What impressed me among other things was, 'But 
 what is to become of our friends the Marshal and 
 Mollendorf?' I am Marshal; I am about to risk 
 all for nothing. Why should I not remain Mar- 
 shal for the remainder of my days? It is a pleas- 
 ant thing to go to Vienna once the year and to 
 witness the maneuvers, with an honorary position 
 on the emperor's staff. To be Marshal here is to 
 hold a sinecure, yet it has its compensations. The 
 uniforms, gray and gold, are handsome; it is an 
 ostrich plume that I wear in my chapeau de bras; 
 the medals are of gold. My friend, it is the vanity 
 of old age which forgives not." And the Marshal, 
 the bitterest tongue in all Bleiberg, reached over 
 and picked up the cigar which lay by the inkwells. 
 He lit it at one of the tapers, and sank again into 
 the chair. "Count, how many games are you 
 playing?" 
 
 "My dear Marshal, it was not I who spoke of 
 games. I am playing no game, save for the legit- 
 imate sovereign of this kingdom. I ask for no 
 reward." 
 
 "Disinterested man ! The inference is, however, 
 that, since you have not asked for anything, you
 
 T H E P U P P E T C K W N 77 
 
 hare been promised ioinething. Confess it, and 
 have done." 
 
 "Marshal !" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Is it possible that you suspect me?" The cold 
 eyes grew colder, and the thin lips almost disap- 
 peared. 
 
 "When three men watch each other as do Beau- 
 vais, Mollendorf and you, it is because each sus- 
 pects the other of treachery. You haven't watched 
 me because I am old, but because I am old I have 
 been watching you. Mollendorf aspires to great- 
 ness, you have your gaze on the chancellorship, and 
 curse me if the Colonel isn't looking after my old 
 shoes ! Am I to give up my uniform, my medals 
 and my plume for nothing? And who the devil 
 is this man Beauvais, since that is not his name? 
 Is he a fine bird whose feathers have been plucked ?" 
 
 The minister did not respond to the question; 
 he began instead to fidget in his chair. 
 
 "When I gave my word to his Highness the 
 duke, it was without conditions. I asked no 
 favors; I considered it my duty. Let us come to 
 an understanding. Material comfort is necessary 
 to a man of my age. Fine phrases and a medal 
 or two more do not count. I am, then, to go to 
 Servia. You were very kind to hide me in your 
 cabinet." 
 
 "It was to show you that I had no secrets from 
 you," quickly. 
 
 "Let us pass on. Mollendorf is to go to Paris, 
 where he will be a nonentity, while in his present 
 office he is a power in the land Devil take me,
 
 78 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 but it seems to me that we are all a pack of asses! 
 Our gains will not be commensurate with our 
 losses. The navy? Well, we'll let that pass; the 
 Colonel, I see, loves a joke/' 
 
 "You forget our patriotism for the true house." 
 
 "Why not give it its true name self-interest?" 
 
 "Marshal, in heaven's name, what has stirred 
 your bile?" The minister was losing his patience, 
 a had thing for him to do in the presence of the 
 old warrior. 
 
 "It is something I've been swallowing this past 
 year." The Marshal tipped the ash of his cigar 
 into the waste basket. 
 
 "Marshal, will you take the word not of the 
 minister, but of the von Wallenstein, that what- 
 ever my reward shall be for my humble services, 
 yours shall not be less?" 
 
 "Thanks, but I have asked for no reward. If 
 I accepted gain for what I do, I should not be 
 too old to blush." 
 
 "I do not understand." 
 
 "Self-interest blinds us. I have nothing but 
 pity for this king whose only crime is an arch- 
 bishop; and I can not accept gain at his expense; 
 I should blush for shame. Had I my way, he 
 should die in peace. He has not long to live. 
 The archbishop well, we can not make' kings, they 
 are born. But there is one thing more: Over all 
 your schemes is the shadow of Austria." 
 
 "Austria?" 
 
 "Yes. The Colonel speaks of a power behind 
 him. Bismarck looks hungrily toward Schleswig- 
 Holstein. Austria casts amorous eyes at us. A
 
 THE PUPPET CEOWN 79 
 
 protectorate? We did not need it. It was forced 
 on us. When Austria assumed to dictate to us as 
 to who should be king, she also robbed us of our 
 true independence. Twenty years ago there was 
 no duchy; it was all one kingdom. Who created 
 this duchy when Albrecht came on the throne? 
 Austria. Why? If we live we shall read." He 
 rose, shook his lean legs. "I have been for the 
 most part neutral. I shall remain neutral. There 
 is an undercurrent on which you have failed to 
 reckon. Austria, mistress of the confederation. 
 There are two men whom you must watch. One 
 is the archbishop." 
 
 "The archbishop?" The minister was surprised 
 that the Marshal should concur with the Colonel. 
 "And the other?" 
 
 "Your friend the Colonel," starting for the door. 
 
 The minister smiled. "Will you not dine with 
 me?" he asked. 
 
 "Thanks. But I have the Servian minister on 
 my hands to-night. A propos, tell the Colonel that 
 I decline Belgrade. I prefer to die at home." 
 And he vanished. 
 
 Von Wallenstein reviewed the statements of 
 both his visitors. . 
 
 "I shall watch Monseigneur the archbishop." 
 Then he added, with a half -smile: "God save us 
 if the Marshal's sword were half so sharp as his 
 tongue ! It was careless of me to forget that I 
 had shut him up in the cabinet." 
 
 Meanwhile Beauvais walked slowly toward his 
 quarters, with his saber caught up under his arm.
 
 SO THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 Once he turned and gazed at the palace, whose 
 windows began to flash with light. 
 
 "Yes, they are puppets and jackals, and I am 
 the lion. For all there shall serve my ends. I 
 shall win, and when I do " He laughed silently 
 "Well, I am a comely man, and Madame the 
 duchess shall be my wife."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 MADEMOISELLE OF THE VEIL 
 
 The public park at night was a revelation to 
 Maurice, who, lonely and restless, strolled over 
 from the hotel in quest of innocent amusement. 
 He was none the worse for his unintended bath ; 
 indeed, if anything, he was much the better for it. 
 His imagination was excited. It was not every 
 day that a man could, at one and the same time, 
 fall out of a boat and into the presence of a 
 princess of royal blood. 
 
 He tried to remember all he had said to her, but 
 only two utterances recurred to him; yet these 
 caused him an exhilaration like the bouquet of old 
 wine. He had told her that she was beautiful, in- 
 directly, it was true; she had accepted his friend- 
 ship, also indirectly, it was true. Now the logical 
 sequence of all this was but he broke into a 
 light laugh. What little vanity he possessed was 
 without conceit. Princesses of royal blood were 
 beyond the reach of logical sequence; and besides, 
 she was to be married on the twentieth of the 
 month. 
 
 He followed one of the paths which led to the 
 81
 
 8-2 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 pavilion. It was a charming scene, radiant with 
 gas lamps, the vivid kaleidoscope of gowns and 
 uniforms. Beautiful faces flashed past him. There 
 were in the air the vague essences of violet, rose 
 and heliotrope. Sometimes he caught the echo of 
 low laughter or the snatch of a gay song. The 
 light of the lamps shot out on the crinkled surface 
 of the lake in tongues of quivering flame, which 
 danced a brave gavot with the phantom stars; 
 and afar twinkled the dipping oars. The brilliant 
 pavilion, which rested partly over land and partly 
 over water, was thronged. 
 
 The band was playing airs from the operas of 
 the day, and Maurice yielded to the spell of the 
 romantic music. He leaned over the pavilion rail, 
 and out of the blackness below he endeavored to 
 conjure up the face of Xell (or was it Kate?) 
 who had danced with him at the embassies in 
 Vienna, fenced and ridden with him, till till 
 with a gesture of impatience he flung away the 
 end of his cigar. 
 
 Memory was altogether too elusive. It was 
 neither Nell nor Kate he saw smiling up at him, 
 nor anybody else in the world but the Princess 
 Alexia, whose eyes were like wine in a sunset, 
 whose lips were as red as the rose of Tours in 
 France, and whose voice was sweeter than that 
 throbbing up from the 'cello. If he thought much 
 more of her, there would be a logical sequence on 
 his side. He laughed again with an effort and 
 settled back in his chair to renew his interest in 
 the panorama revolving around him. 
 
 "They certainly know how to live in these coun-
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 83 
 
 tries," he thought, "for all their comic operas. 
 All I need, to have this fairy scene made com- 
 plete, is a woman to talk to. By George, what's 
 to hinder me from finding one?" he added, seized 
 by the spirit of mischief. He turned his head 
 this way and that. "Ah! doubtless there is the 
 one I'm looking for.'" 
 
 Seated alone at a table behind him was a 
 woman dressed in gray. Her back was toward 
 him, but he lost none of the beautiful contours 
 of her figure. She wore a gray alpine hat, below 
 the rim of which rebellious little curls escaped, 
 curls of a fine red-brown, which, as they trailed 
 to the nape of the firm white neck, lightened into 
 a ruddy gold. Her delicate head was turned 
 aside, and to all appearances her gaze was di- 
 rected to the entrance to the pavilion. A heavy 
 blue veil completely obscured her features; though 
 Maurice could see a rose-tinted ear and the 
 shadow of a curving chin and throat, which prom- 
 ised much. To a man there is always a mystery 
 lurking behind a veil. So he rose, walked past 
 her, returned and deliberately sat down in the 
 chair opposite to hers. The fact that gendarme: 
 moved among the crowd did not disturb him. 
 
 "Good evening, Mademoiselle," he said, politely 
 lifting his hat. 
 
 She straightened haughtily. "Monsieur," she 
 said, resentment, consternation and indignation 
 struggling to predominate in her tones, "I did not 
 give you permission to sit down. You are im- 
 pertinent !" 
 
 "0, no," Maurice declared. "I am not imperti-
 
 84 THE PUPPET CROWS 
 
 nent. I am lonesome. In all Bleiberg I haven't 
 a goul to talk to, excepting the hotel waiters, and 
 they are uninteresting. Grant me the privilege of 
 conversing with you for a moment. We shall 
 never meet again; and I should not know you if 
 we did. Whether \OVL are old or young, plain or 
 beautiful, it matters not. My only wish is to talk 
 to a woman, to hear a woman's voice." 
 
 "Shall I call a gendarme, Monsieur, and have 
 him search for your nurse?" The attitude which 
 accompanied these words was anything but assur- 
 ing. 
 
 He, however, evinced no alarm. He even laughed. 
 "That was good! We shall get along finely, I am 
 sure." 
 
 "Monsieur," she said, rising, "I repeat that I 
 do not desire your company, nor to remain in the 
 presence of your unspeakable effrontery." 
 
 "I beseech you !" implored Maurice, also rising. 
 "I am a foreigner, lonesome, unhappy, thousands 
 of miles from home " 
 
 "You are English?" suddenly. She stood with 
 the knuckle of her forefinger on her lips as if 
 meditating. She sat down. 
 
 Maurice, greatly surprised, also sat down. 
 
 "English?" he repeated. His thought was: 
 "What the deuce ! This is the third time I have 
 been asked that. Who is this gay Lothario the 
 women seem to be expecting?" To her he con- 
 tinued: "And why do j r ou ask me that?" 
 
 "Perhaps it is your accent. And what do you 
 wish to say to me, Monsieur?" It was a voice of 
 quality; all the anger had gone from it. She
 
 THE PUPPET CEOWN 85 
 
 leaned on her elbows, her chin in her palms, and 
 through the veil he caught the sparkle of a pair 
 of wonderful eyes. "Let us converse in English," 
 she added. "It is so long since I have had occa- 
 sion to speak in that tongue." She repeated her 
 question. 
 
 "0, I had no definite plan outlined," he an- 
 swered ; "just generalities, with the salt of repartee 
 to season." He pondered over this sudden transi- 
 tion from wrath to mildness. An Englishman? 
 Very well; it might grow interesting. 
 
 "Is it customary among the English to request 
 to speak to strangers without the usual formalities 
 of an introduction?" 
 
 "I can not say that it is," he answered truth- 
 fully enough; "but the procedure is never without 
 a certain charm and excitement." 
 
 "Ah; then you were led to address me merely 
 by the love of adventure?" 
 
 "That is it; the love of adventure. I should 
 not have spoken to you had you not worn the 
 veil." He remarked that her English was excel- 
 lent. 
 
 "You differ from the average Englishman, who 
 is usually wrapt up in himself and has no desire 
 to talk to strangers. You have been a soldier." 
 
 The evolutions of his cane ceased. "How in 
 the world did you guess that?" surprised beyond 
 measure. 
 
 "Perhaps there is something suggestive in your 
 shoulders." 
 
 He tried to peer behind the veil, but in vain. 
 "Am I speaking to one I have met before?"
 
 86 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "I believe not; indeed, sir, I am positive." 
 
 "I have been a soldier, but my shoulders did 
 not tell you that." 
 
 "Perhaps I have the gift of clairvoyance," gaz- 
 ing again toward the entrance. 
 
 "Or perhaps you have been to Vienna." 
 
 "Who knows? Most Englishmen are, or have 
 been, soldiers." 
 
 "That is true." Inwardly, "There's my friend 
 the Englishman again. She's guessing closer than 
 she knows. Curious; she has mistaken me for 
 some one she does not know, if that is possible." 
 He was somewhat in a haze. "Well, you have re- 
 markable eyes. However, let us talk of a more 
 interesting subject; for instance, yourself. You. 
 too, love adventure, that is, if I interpret the veil 
 rightly." 
 
 "Yes; I like to see without being seen. But, 
 of course, behind this love of adventure which you 
 possess, there is an important mission." 
 
 "Ah !" he thought ; "you are not quite sure of 
 me." Aloud, "Yes, I came here to witness the 
 comic opera." 
 
 "The comic opera? I do not understand?" 
 
 "I believed there was going to be trouble be- 
 tween the duchy and the kingdom, but unfortu- 
 nately the prima donna has refused the part." 
 
 "The prima donna !" in a muffled voice. "Whom 
 do you mean?" 
 
 "Son Altesse la Grande Duchesse! 'Void le 
 sabre de mon pere!" : And he whistled a bar from 
 Offenbach, his eyes dancing.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 87 
 
 "Sir ! I ! you do wrong to laugh, at us I" a 
 flash from the half-hidden eyes. 
 
 "Forgive me if I have offended you, but I " 
 
 "Ah, sir, but you who live in a powerful coun- 
 try think we little folk have no hearts, that we 
 have no wrongs to redress, no dreams of conquest 
 and of power. You are wrong/' 
 
 "And whose side do you defend?" 
 
 "I am. a woman," was the equivocal answer. 
 
 "Which means that you are uncertain/' 
 
 "I have long ago made up my mind." 
 
 "Wonderful ! I always thought a woman's mind 
 w.aj like a time-table, subject to change without 
 notice. So you have made up your mind?" 
 
 "I was born with its purpose defined," coldly. 
 
 "Ah, now I begin to doubt." 
 
 "What?" with a still lower degree of warmth. 
 
 "That you are a woman. Only goddesses do 
 not change their minds sometimes. Well, then 
 you are on the weaker side." 
 
 "Or the stronger, since there are two sides." 
 
 "And the stronger?" persistently. 
 
 "The side which is not the weaker. But the 
 subject is what you English call 'taboo/ It is 
 treading on delicate ground to talk politics in the 
 open especially in Bleiberg." 
 
 "What a diplomat you would make!" he cried 
 with enthusiasm. Certainly this was a red-letter 
 day in his calendar. This adventure almost 
 equalled the other, and, besides, in this instance, 
 his skin was dry; he could enjoy it more thor- 
 oughly. Who could this unknown be? "If only
 
 88 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 you understood the mystery with which you hare 
 enshrouded yourself !" 
 
 "I do." She drew the veil more firmly about 
 her chin. 
 
 "Grant me a favor." 
 
 "I am talking to you, sir/* 
 
 This candor did not disturb him. "The favor I 
 ask is that you will lift the corner of your veil; 
 otherwise you will haunt me." 
 
 "I am doomed to haunt you, then. If I should 
 lift the corner of my veil something terrible would 
 happen." 
 
 "What ! Are you as beautiful as that ?" 
 
 There was a flash of teeth behind the veil, fol- 
 lowed by the ripple of soft laughter. "It is diffi- 
 cult to believe you to be English. You are more 
 like one of those absurd Americans." 
 
 Maurice did not like the adjective. "I am one 
 of them," wondering what the effect of this admis- 
 sion would be. "I am not English, but of the 
 brother race. Forgive me if I have imposed on 
 you, but it was your fault. You said that I was 
 English, and I was too lonesome to enlighten you." 
 
 "You are an American?" She began to tap her 
 gloved fingers against the table. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Then, to his astonishment, she gave way to 
 I laughter, honest and hearty. "How dense of me 
 not to have known the moment you addressed me! 
 Who but the American holds in scorn custom's 
 formalities and usages? Your grammar is good, 
 BO good that my mistake is pardonable. The
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 89 
 
 American is always like the terrible infant; and 
 you are a choice example." 
 
 Maurice was not so pleased as he might have 
 been. His ears burned. Still, he went forward 
 bravely. "A man never pretends to be an English- 
 man without getting into trouble." 
 
 "I did not ask to speak to you. No one ever 
 pretends to be an American. Why is it you are 
 always ashamed of your country?" with malice 
 aforethought. , 
 
 Maurice experienced the sting of many bees. "I 
 see that your experience is limited to impostors. 
 I, Mademoiselle, am proud of my country, the 
 great, free land which stands aside from the tur- 
 moil and laughs at your petty squabbles, your 
 kings, your princes. Laugh at me; I deserve it 
 for not minding my own business, but do not 
 laugh at my country." His face was flushed; he 
 was almost angry. It was not her words; it was 
 the contempt with which she had invested them. 
 But immediately he was ashamed of his outburst. 
 "All, Mademoiselle, you have tricked me; you have 
 found the vulnerable part in my armor. I have 
 spoken like a child. Permit me to apologize for 
 my apparent lack of breeding." He rose, bowed, 
 and made as though to depart. 
 
 "Sit down, Monsieur," she said, picking up her 
 French again. "I forgive you. I do more; I ad- 
 mire. I see that your freak had nothing behind 
 it but mischief. No woman need fear a man who 
 colors when his country is made the subject of a 
 jest."
 
 90 THE PUPPET C R W X 
 
 All his anger evaporated. This was an invita- 
 tion, and he accepted it. He resumed his seat. 
 
 "The truth is, as I remarked, I was lonesome. 
 I know that I have committed a transgression, but 
 the veil tempted me." 
 
 "It is of no matter. A few moments, and you 
 will be gone. I am waiting for some one. You 
 may talk till that person comes." Her voice was 
 now in its natural tone; and he was convinced that 
 if her face were half as sweet, she must possess 
 rare beauty. "Hush!" as the band began to 
 breathe forth Chopin's polonaise. They listened 
 until the music ceased. 
 
 "Ah!" said he rapturously, "the polonaise! 
 When you hear it, does there not recur to you 
 some dream of bygone happy hours, the sibilant 
 murmur of fragrant night winds through the crisp 
 foliage, the faint call of Diana's horn from the 
 woodlands, moon-fairies dancing on the spider- 
 webs, the glint of the dew on the roses, the far- 
 off music of the surges tossing impotently on the 
 sands, the forgetfulness of time and place and 
 care, and not a cloud 'twixt you and the heavens? 
 Ah, the polonaise !" 
 
 "Surely you must be a poet!" declared the Veil, 
 when this panegyric was done. 
 
 "No," said he modestly, "I never was quite 
 poor enough for that exalted position." He had 
 recovered his good humor. 
 
 "Indeed, you begin to interest me. What is 
 your occupation when not in search of comic 
 operas ?" 
 
 "I serve Ananias."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 91 
 
 "Ananias?" A pause. "Ah, you are a diplo- 
 mat?" 
 
 "How clever of you to guess." 
 
 "Yours is a careless country," observed the Veil. 
 
 "Careless ?" mystified. 
 
 "Yes, to send forth her green and salad youth. 
 Eh, Men! There are hopes for you. If you live 
 you will grow old; you will become bald and re- 
 served; you will not speak to strangers, to while 
 away an idle hour; for permit me, Monsieur, who 
 am wise, to tell you that it is a dangerous prac- 
 tice." 
 
 "And do I look so very young?" 
 
 "Your beard is that of a boy." 
 
 "David slew Goliath." 
 
 "At least you have a ready tongue," laughing. 
 
 "And you told me that I had been a soldier." 
 
 But to this she had nothing to say. 
 
 "I am older than you think, Mademoiselle of 
 the Veil. I have been a soldier; I have seen hard 
 service, too. Mine is no cushion sword. Youth? 
 'Tis a virtue, not a crime; and, besides, it is an 
 excellent disguise." 
 
 For some time she remained pensive. 
 
 "You are thinking of something, Mademoiselle." 
 
 "Do you like adventure?" 
 
 "I subsist on it." 
 
 "You have been a soldier; you are, then, 
 familiar with the use of arms?" 
 
 "They tell me so," modestly. What was coming? 
 
 "I have some influence. May I trust you?" 
 
 "On my honor," puzzled, yet eager. 
 
 "There may be a comic opera, as you call it.
 
 92 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 WIT is not so impossible as to be laughed at. The 
 dove may fly away and the ravens comer" 
 
 "Who in thunder might this woman be?" he 
 thought. 
 
 "And/' went on the Veil, "an extra saber might 
 be used. Give me your address, in case I should 
 find it necessary to send for you." 
 
 Now Maurice was a wary youth. Under ordi-t 
 nary circumstances he would have given a ficti- 
 tious address to this strange sybil with the proph- 
 ecy of war; for he had accosted her only in the 
 spirit of fun. But here was the key which he had 
 been seeking, the key to all that had brought him 
 to Bleiberg. Intrigue, adventure, or whatever it 
 was, and to whatever end, he plunged into it. He 
 drew out a card case, selected a card on which he 
 wrote "Room 12, Continental," and passed it over 
 the table. She read it, and slipped it into her 
 purse. 
 
 Maurice thought: "Who wouldn't join the 
 army with such recruiting officers?" 
 
 While the pantomime took place, a man pushed 
 by Maurice's chair and crossed over to the table 
 recently occupied by him. He sat down, lit a 
 short pipe, rested his feet on the lowest rung of 
 the ladder-like railing, and contemplated the west- 
 ern hills, which by now were enveloped in moon 
 mists. Neither Maurice nor his mysterious vis^h- 
 vif remarked him. Indeed, his broad back afforded 
 but small attraction. And if he puffed his pipe 
 fiercely, nobody cared, since the breeze carried th 
 smoke waterward. 
 
 After putting the card into her purse, Mademoi-
 
 TUB PUPPET CROW N 93 
 
 
 selle of the Yell's gaze once more wandered toward 
 
 the entrance, and this time it grew fixed. Maurice 
 naturally followed it, and he saw a tall soldier in 
 fatigue dress elbowing his way through the crush. 
 Many moved aside for him; those in uniform sa- 
 luted. 
 
 "Monsieur/"' came from behind the veil, "you 
 may go now. I dismiss you. If I have need of 
 you I promise to send for you." 
 
 He stood up. "I thank you for the entertain- 
 ment and the promise you extend. I shall be easily 
 found," committing himself to nothing. "I sup- 
 pose you are a person of importance in affairs." 
 
 "It is not unlikely. I see that you love adven- 
 ture for its own sake, for you have not asked me 
 if it be the duchy or the kingdom. Adieu, Mon- 
 sieur," with a careless wave of the gray-gloved 
 hand. "Adieu !" 
 
 He took his dismissal heroically and shot a final 
 glance at the approaching soldier. His brows came 
 together. 
 
 "Where," he murmured, "have I seen that pic- 
 turesque countenance before? Not in Europe; but 
 where?" He caught the arm of a passing gen- 
 darme. "Who is that gentleman in fatigue uni- 
 form, coming this way?" 
 
 "That, Monsieur," answered the gendarme in 
 tones not unmixed with awe, "is Colonel Beauvais 
 of the royal cuirassiers." 
 
 "Thanks. ... Beauvais; I do not remem- 
 ber the name. Truly I have had experiences to- 
 day. Ajid for what house is Mademoiselle of the
 
 94 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 < 
 
 Veil? Eavens? War? 'Void le sabre de mon 
 pere !' " and with a gay laugh he went his way. 
 
 Meanwhile Colonel Beauvais arrived at the table, 
 tipped his hat to the Veil, who rose and laid a 
 hand on his arm. He guided her through the 
 pressing crowds. 
 
 "Ah, Madame," he said, "you are very brave to 
 choose such a rendezvous." 
 
 "Danger is a tonic to the ill-spirited," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "If aught should happen to you " 
 
 "It was in accord with her wishes that I am 
 here. She suffers from impatience; and I would 
 risk much to satisfy her whims." 
 
 "So would I, Madame; even life." There was 
 a tremor of passion in his voice, but she appeared 
 not to notice it. "Here is a nook out of the lights; 
 we may talk here with safety." 
 
 "And what is the news?" she asked. 
 
 "This: The man remains still in obscurity. 
 But he shall be found. Listen," and his voice fell 
 into a whisper. 
 
 "Austria?" Mademoiselle of the Veil pressed 
 her hands together in excitement. "Is it true?" 
 
 "Did I not promise you? It is so true that the 
 end is in sight. Conspiracy is talked openly in 
 the streets, in the cafes, everywhere. The Osians 
 will be sand in the face of a tidal wave. A word 
 from me, and Kronau follows it. It all would be 
 so easy were it not for the archbishop." 
 
 "The archbishop?" contemptuously. 
 
 "Ay, Madame; he is a man so deep, with a mind 
 so abyssmal, that I would give ten years of my
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 95 
 
 life for a flash of his thoughts. He has some 
 project; apparently he gives his whole time to the 
 king. He loves this weak man Leopold; he has 
 sacrificed the red hat for him, for the hat would 
 have taken him to Italy, as we who procured it 
 intended it should." 
 
 "The archbishop? Trust me; one month from 
 now he will be recalled. That is the news I have 
 for you." 
 
 "You have taken a weight from my mind. What 
 do you think in regard to the rumor of the prince 
 and the peasant girl?" 
 
 "It afforded me much amusement. You are a 
 man of fine inventions." 
 
 "Gaze toward the upper end of the pavilion, the 
 end which we have just left. Yes there. I am 
 having the owner of those broad shoulders watched. 
 That gendarme leaning against the pillar follows 
 him wherever he goes." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "That I am trying to ascertain. This much 
 he is an Englishman." 
 
 Mademoiselle of the Veil laughed. "Pardon my 
 irrelevancy, but the remembrance of a recent ad- 
 venture of mine was too strong." 
 
 Maurice could not regain his interest in the 
 scene. He strolled in and out of the moving 
 groups, but no bright eyes or winning smiles al- 
 lured him. Impelled by curiosity, he began to 
 draw near the shadowed nook. Curiosity in a jour- 
 nalist is innate, and time nor change can efface it. 
 Curiosity in those things which do not concern us
 
 96 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 is wrong. Ethics disavows the practice, though 
 philosophy sustains it. Perhaps in this instance 
 Maurice was philosophical, not ethical. Perhaps he 
 wanted to hear the woman's voice again, which was 
 excusable. Perhaps it was neither the one nor the 
 other, but fate, which directed his footsteps. 
 Certain it is that the subsequent adventures would 
 never have happened had he gone about his busi- 
 ness, as he should have done. 
 
 "Who is this who stares at us?" asked Beauvais, 
 with a piercing glance and a startled movement of 
 his shoulders. 
 
 "A disciple of Pallas and a pupil of Mars," was 
 the answer. "I have been recruiting, Colonel. 
 There is sharpness sometimes in new blades. Do 
 not draw him with your eyes." 
 
 The Colonel continued his scrutiny, however, 
 and there was an ugly droop at the corners of 
 his mouth, though it was partly hidden under hi:? 
 mustache. 
 
 Maurice, aware that he was not wanted, passed 
 along, having in mind to regain his former seat 
 by the railing. 
 
 "Colonel," he mused, "your face grows more 
 familiar every moment. It was not associated 
 with agreeable things. But, what were they? 
 Hang it! you shall have a place in my thoughts 
 till I have successfully labeled you. Humph ! 
 Some one seems to have appropriated my seat." 
 
 He viewed with indecision the broad back of 
 the interloper, who at that moment turned his 
 head. At the sight of that bronzed profile Maurice 
 gave an exclamation of surprise and delight.' He
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 07 
 
 stepped forward and dropped his hand on the 
 stranger's shoulder. 
 
 "John Fitzgerald, or henceforth garlic shall be 
 my salad !" he cried in loud, exultant tones.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 SOME DIALOGUE, A SPRAINED ANKLE, AND SOME 
 SOLDIERS 
 
 The stranger returned Maurice's salute with 
 open-mouthed dismay; the monocle fell from his 
 eye, he grasped the table with one hand and pushed 
 back the chair with the other, while Maurice heard 
 the name of an exceedingly warm place. 
 
 The gendarme, who was leaning against the pil- 
 lar, straightened, opened his jaws, snapped them, 
 and hurried off. 
 
 "Maurice Maurice Carewe?" said the bewil- 
 dered Englishman. 
 
 "No one else, though I must say you do not 
 seem very glad to see me/' Maurice answered, 
 conscious that he was all things but welcome. 
 
 "Hang you, I'm not !" incogitantly. 
 
 "Go to the devil, then !" cried Maurice, hotly. 
 
 "Gently," said Fitzgerald, catching Maurice by 
 the coat and pulling him down into a chair. 
 "Confound you, could you not have made yourself 
 known to me without yelling my name at the top 
 of your voice?" 
 
 "Are you ashamed of it?" asked Maurice, loos- 
 ing his coat from Fitzgerald's grip. 
 
 98
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 99 
 
 "I'm afraid of it," the Englishman admitted, 
 in a lowered voice. "And your manly, resonant 
 tones have cast it abroad. I am here incognito." 
 
 "Who the deuce are you?" 
 
 "I am Don Jahpet of Armenia; that is to say 
 that I am a marked man. And now, as you 
 would inelegantly express it, you have put a tag 
 on me. When I left you in Vienna the other day 
 I lied to you. I am sorry. I should have trusted 
 you, only I did not wish you to risk your life. 
 You would have insisted on coming along." 
 
 "Risked my life?" echoed Maurice. "How 
 many times have I not risked it? By the way," 
 impressed by a sudden thought, "are you the En- 
 glishman every one seems to be expecting?" 
 
 "Yes." Fitzgerald knocked his pipe against the 
 railing. "I am the man. Worse luck ! Was any 
 one near when you called me by name?" 
 
 "Only one of those wooden gendarmes." 
 
 "Only one of those wooden gendarmes !" iron- 
 ically. "Only one of those dogs who have been 
 at my heels ever since I arrived. And he, having 
 heard, has gone back to his master. Well, since 
 you have started the ball rolling, it is no more 
 than fair that you should see the game to its end." 
 
 "What's it all about?" asked Maurice, his aston- 
 ishment growing and growing. 
 
 "Where are your rooms?" 
 
 "You have something important to tell me?" 
 
 "Perhaps you may think so. At the Conti- 
 nental? Come along." 
 
 They passed out of the pavilion, along the path 
 to the square, thence to the terrace of the Conti-
 
 100 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 nental, which they mounted. Not a word was 
 said, but Maurice was visibly excited, and by con- 
 stant gnawing ruined his cigar. He conducted his 
 friend to the room on the second floor, the win- 
 dow of which opened on a private balcony. Here 
 he placed two chairs and a small table; and with 
 a bottle of tokayer between them they seated 
 themselves. 
 
 "What's it all about?" 
 
 "0, only a crown and a few millions in money." 
 
 "Only a crown and a few millions in money," 
 repeated Maurice very slowly, for his mind could 
 scarcely accept Fitzgerald and these two greatest 
 treasures on earth. 
 
 A gendarme had leisurely followed them from 
 the park. He took aside a porter and quietly 
 plied him with questions. Evidently the answers 
 were satisfactory, for he at once departed. 
 
 Maurice stared at the Englishman. 
 
 "Knocks you up a bit, eh?" said Fitzgerald. 
 "Well> I am rather surprised myself; that is to 
 say, I was." 
 
 "Eire away," said Maurice. 
 
 "To begin with, if I do not see the king to- 
 morrow, it is not likely that I ever shall." 
 
 "The king?" 
 
 "My business here is with his Majesty." 
 
 Maurice filled the glasses and pushed one 
 across the table. 
 
 "Here's !" said he, and gulped. 
 
 Fitzgerald drank slowly, however, as if arrang- 
 ing in his mind the salient points in his forth- 
 coming narrative.
 
 THE PUTPET CROWN 101 
 
 "I have never been an extraordinarily com- 
 municative man; what I shall tell you is known 
 only to my former Colonel and myself. At Cal- 
 cutta, where you and I first met, I was but a 
 Lieutenant in her Majesty's. To-day I am bur- 
 dened with riches such as I know not how to use, 
 and possessor of a title which sounds strange in 
 my ears." 
 
 The dim light from the gas-jet in the room 
 flickered over his face, and Maurice saw that it 
 was slightly contorted, as if by pain. 
 
 "My father was Lord Fitzgerald." 
 
 "What!" cried Maurice, "the diplomat, the his- 
 torian, the millionaire?" 
 
 "The same. Thirteen years ago we parted a 
 misunderstanding. I never saw him again. Six 
 months ago he died and left me a fortune, a title 
 and a strange legacy; and it is this legacy which 
 brings me to Bleiberg. Do you know the history 
 of Leopold?" 
 
 "I do. This throne belongs to the house of 
 Auersperg, and the Osian usurps. The fact that 
 the minister of the duchess has been discredited 
 was what brought me here. Continue." 
 
 And Fitzgerald proceeded briefly to acquaint the 
 other with the strange caprice of his father; how, 
 when he left Bleiberg, he had been waylaid and 
 the certificates demanded ; how he had entrusted 
 them to his valet, who had gone by another route; 
 how the duke had sought him in Vienna and 
 made offers, bribes and threats; how he had 
 laughed at all, and sworn that Duke Josef should 
 never be a king.
 
 102 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "My father wished to save Leopold in spite of 
 himself; and then, he had no love for Josef. At 
 a dinner given at the legation, there was among 
 others a toast to her Majesty. The duke laughed 
 and tossed the wine to the floor. It lost him his 
 crown, for my father never forgave the insult. 
 When the duke died, his daughter took up the 
 work with surprising vigor. It was all useless; 
 father was a rock, and would listen neither to 
 bribes nor threats. Now they are after me. They 
 have hunted me in India, London, and Vienna. 
 I am an obscure soldier, with all my titles and 
 riches; they threaten me with death. But I am 
 here, and my father's wishes shall be carried out. 
 That is all. I am glad that we have come to- 
 gether; you have more invention than I have." 
 
 "But why did you come yourself? You could 
 have sent an agent. That would have been sim- 
 ple." 
 
 "An agent might be bought. It was necessary 
 for me to come. However, I might have waited 
 till the twentieth. I should have come openly and 
 informed the British minister of my mission. 
 As to the pheasants, they could have waited. Per- 
 haps my fears are without foundation, unless you 
 have been the unconscious cause of my true name 
 being known. Every one has heard the story. It 
 is known as 'Fitzgerald's folly,' and has gone the 
 rounds of the 'diplomatic circles for ten years. I 
 shall ask for an audience to-morrow morning." 
 
 "And these certificates fall due the same day 
 that the princess is to be married," mused his 
 auditor. "What a yarn for the papers!" his love
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 103 
 
 of sensation being always close to the surface. 
 "Your father, you say, took four million crowns; 
 what became of the fifth?" 
 
 "The duke was permitted to secure that." 
 
 "A kind of court plaster for his wounds, eh? 
 Why don't you get that other million and run the 
 kingdom yourself? It's a great opportunity." 
 Maurice laughed. 
 
 "Her Eoyal Highness must not be forgotten. My 
 father thought much of her." 
 
 "But really I do not see why you are putting 
 yourself to all this trouble. The king will pay off 
 the indebtedness; the kingdom is said to be rich, 
 or Austria wouldn't meddle with it." 
 
 "The king, on the twentieth of this month, will 
 be some three millions short." 
 
 "And since he can not pay he is bankrupt. Ah, 
 I see the plan. The duke knew that he wouldn't 
 be able to pay." 
 
 "You have hit it squarely." 
 
 "But Austria, having placed Leopold here, is 
 his sponsor." 
 
 "Austria has too many debts of her own; she 
 will have to disavow her protfigfi, which is a fact 
 not unthought of by the house of Auersperg. By 
 constant machination and intrigue the king's rev- 
 enues have been so depleted that ordinary debts 
 are troublesome. The archbishop, to stave off the 
 probable end, brought about the alliance between 
 the houses of Carnavia and Osia. My business 
 here is to arrange for a ten years' renewal of the 
 loan, and that is what the duchess wishes to pre- 
 vent, mon ami. What's to become of the king aiid
 
 104 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 his daughter if aught in the way of mishap should 
 befall me? I have not seen the king, but I have 
 seen her Koyal Highness." 
 
 "What is she like?" Maurice asked, innocently. 
 He saw no reason why he should confide to the 
 Englishman his own adventure. 
 
 "I'm not much of a judge," said Fitzgerald cau- 
 tiously. "I have lived most of my life in canton- 
 ments where women were old and ran mostly to 
 tongue. I should say that she is beautiful." A 
 short sigh followed this admission. 
 
 "Ah!" said Maurice with a loud laugh to cover 
 the sudden pang of jealousy which seized him; "in 
 gratitude for saving her father's throne the daugh- 
 ter will fall in love with you. It is what the 
 dramatist calls logical sequence." 
 
 "Why don't you write novels ? Your imagination 
 has no bounds." 
 
 "Writing novels is too much like work. But 
 I'm serious. Your position in the world to-day is 
 nearly equal to hers, and certainly more secure. 
 Ah, yes; I must not forget that prince. He's a 
 lucky dog and so are you, for that matter. 
 Millions and titles! And I have slapped you 
 cavalierly on the back, smoked your cigars, drunk 
 your whisky, and beaten you at poker !" comically. 
 
 "Ah, Maurice, it is neither wealth nor titles; 
 it is freedom. I am like a boy out of school for 
 good and all. Women, the society of women, who 
 are the salt of earth; that is what I want. I have 
 knocked out thirteen years of my life in furnace 
 holes, and have not met nor spoken to a dozen 
 young women in all that time. How I envy you!
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 105 
 
 You know every one; you have seen the world; 
 you are at home in Paris, or London, or Vienna; 
 you have enjoyed all I wish to enjoy." 
 
 "Why did you ever get into the army?" 
 
 "You ought to know." 
 
 "But it was bread and butter to me." 
 
 "Well, I was young; I saw fame and glory. If 
 the matter under hand is closed to-morrow, what 
 do you say to the Carpathians and bears? I shall 
 not remain here; some one will be looking for 
 blood. What do you say?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Maurice, thoughtfully. He 
 was thinking of Mademoiselle of the Veil and her 
 prophecy of ravens. "I don't know that I shall 
 be able. It is my opinion that your part in the 
 affair is only a curtain-raiser to graver things. 
 Every one of importance in town goes about with 
 an air of expectancy. I never saw anything like 
 it. It is the king, the archbishop and the chan- 
 cellor against two hundred thousand. You're a 
 soldier; can't you smell powder?" 
 
 "Powder ! You do not believe the duchess mad 
 enough to wage war?" 
 
 "Trust a woman to do what no one dreams she 
 will." 
 
 "But Austria would be about her ears in a 
 minute !" 
 
 "Maybe. Have you seen this Colonel Beauvais 
 of the royal cuirassiers, the actual head of the 
 army here?" 
 
 "A fine soldier," said the Englishman, heartily. 
 "Rides like a centaur and wields a saber as if it 
 were a piece of straw."
 
 106 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 "I can hold a pretty good blade myself; I've 
 an idea that I can lick him at both games." 
 
 Fitzgerald laughed good-naturedly. "There is 
 the one flaw in your make-up. I admit your horse- 
 manship; but the saber! Believe me, it is only 
 the constant practice and a wrist of iron which 
 make the saber formidable. You are more 
 familiar with the pen; I dare say you could best 
 him at that." 
 
 "What makes you think I can not lick him?" 
 
 "Since when have the saber and the civilian been 
 on terms? And these continental sabers are 
 matchless, the finest in the world. I trust you 
 will steer clear of the Colonel; if you have any 
 challenge in mind, spring it on -me, and I'll let 
 you down easy." Then: "Why the devil do you 
 want to lick him, anyway?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Maurice. "I had a close 
 range to-night, and somehow the man went 
 against the grain. Well, Jack, I'll stay with you 
 in this affair, though, as the county judge at home 
 would say, it's out of my circuit." 
 
 They shook hands across the table. 
 
 "Come," said Fitzgerald; "a toast, for I must 
 be off." 
 
 "What do you say to her Eoyal Highness?" 
 
 "Let us make it general: to all women!" 
 
 They set down the glasses and shook hands 
 again. 
 
 "It seemed good to run across you in Vienna, 
 Maurice. You were one of the bright spots in 
 the old days." 
 
 "Do you want me to walk with you to the
 
 THE. PUPPET CROWN 107 
 
 Grand? It's a fine night," said Maurice, waving 
 his hand toward the moon. "By George, what a 
 beautiful place this end of Bleiberg is! I do not 
 wonder that the duchess covets it." 
 
 "No, I'll go alone. All I have to do is to 
 march straight up the Strasse." 
 
 "Well, good-night and good luck to you," said 
 Maurice, as he led the Englishman into the hall- 
 way. "Look me up when you have settled the 
 business. I say, but it gets me; it's the strangest 
 thing I ever heard." And he waited till the sol- 
 dierly form disappeared below the landing. 
 
 Then he went back to his chair on the balcony 
 to think it over. At four o'clock that afternoon he 
 had grumbled of dullness. He lit a pipe, and 
 contemplated the soft and delicate blues of earth 
 and heaven, the silvery flashes on the lake, and 
 the slim violet threads of smoke which wavered 
 about his head. It was late. Now and then the 
 sound of a galloping horse was borne up by the 
 breeze, and presently Maurice heard the midnight 
 bell boom forth from the sleepy spires of the 
 cathedral where the princess was to be married. 
 
 One by one the lamps of the park went out, but 
 the moon shone on, lustrous and splendid. First 
 he reviewed his odd adventure in the archbishop's 
 gardens. He had spoken to princesses before, but 
 they were women of the world, hothouse roses that 
 bloom and wither in a short space. The atmos- 
 phere which surrounded this princess was idyllic, 
 pastoral. She had seen nothing of the world, its 
 sports and pastimes, and the art of playing at 
 love was unknown to her. Again he could see her
 
 108 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 serious eyes, the delicate chin and mouth, the oval 
 cheeks, and the dog that followed in her steps. 
 Here was an indelible picture which time could 
 'never efface. Something stirred in his heart, and 
 he sighed. 
 
 And ah, the woman in the veil ! Who could she 
 be? The more he thought of her the more con- 
 vinced he was that she stood high in the service 
 of any one but Leopold of Osia. And Fitzgerald ! 
 That sober old soldier concerned with crowns and 
 millions! It was incredible; it was almost laugh- 
 able. They had met up-country in India, and had 
 hunted, and Maurice had saved the Englishman's 
 life. Occasionally they had corresponded. 
 
 "Well, to bed," said the young diplomat. "This 
 has been a full day." And, like the true news- 
 paper man he was, for all his diplomacy, he emp- 
 tied the bottle and entered the room. He was 
 about to disrobe, when some one rapped on the 
 door< He opened it, and beheld a man in the 
 livery of the Grand Hotel. He was breathing hard. 
 "Herr Carewe?" 
 "Yes. What's wanted?" 
 "Herr Hamilton" 
 "Hamilton? 0, yes. Go on." 
 "Herr Hamilton bade me to tell your Excellency 
 that in returning to the hotel he sprained his 
 ankle, and wishes to know if Herr would not be 
 so kind as to spend the night with him." 
 
 "Certainly. Eun down to the office, and I shall 
 be with you shortly." Again alone, Maurice 
 opened his trunk. He brought forth a pint flask 
 of brandy, some old handkerchiefs to be used as
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 109 
 
 bandages, and a box of salve he used for bruises 
 when on hunting expeditions. In turning over 
 his clothes his hand came into contact with his 
 old army revolver. He scratched his head. "No, 
 it's too much like a cannon, and there's no room 
 for it in my pockets." He pushed it aside, rose 
 and slammed the lid of the trunk. "Sprained his 
 ankle? He wasn't gone more than an hour. How 
 the deuce is he to see the king to-morrow? Prob- 
 ably wishes to appoint me his agent. That's it. 
 Very well." He proceeded to the office, where 
 he found the messenger waiting for him. "Come 
 tm, and put life into your steps." 
 
 Together they traversed the moonlit thorough- 
 fare. Few persons were astir. Once the night 
 patrol clattered by. They passed through the 
 markets, and not far ahead they could see the 
 university. It looked like a city prison. 
 
 "This is the hotel, Herr," said the messenger. 
 
 They entered. Maurice approached the propri- 
 etor, who was pale and flurried; but as Maurice 
 had never seen the natural repose of his counte- 
 nance, he thought nothing of it. 
 
 "My friend, Herr Hamilton, has met with an 
 accident. Where is his room?" 
 
 "Number nine; Johann will show you." He 
 acted as if he had something more to say, but a 
 glance from the round-faced porter silenced him. 
 Maurice lost much by not seeing this glance. He 
 followed the messenger up the stairs. 
 
 There were no transoms. The corridor was de- 
 void of illumination. The porter struck a match
 
 110 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 and held it close to the panel of a door under 
 which a thread of light streamed. 
 
 "This is it, Herr," he bawled, so loudly that 
 Maurice started. 
 
 "There was no need of waking the dead to tell 
 me," he growled. 
 
 The door opened, and before Maurice could 
 brace himself for the interior of , the room made 
 all plain to him he was violently pushed over 
 the threshold on to his knees. He was up in an 
 instant. The room was filled with soldiers, foot 
 soldiers of the king, so it seemed. 
 
 "What the devil is this?" he demanded, brush- 
 ing his knees and cursing himself because he had 
 not brought his Colt when fate had put it almost 
 in his hand. 
 
 "It is a banquet, young man. We were waiting 
 for the guest of honor." 
 
 Maurice turned to the speaker, and saw a me- 
 dium-sized man with gray hair and a frosty 
 stubble of a mustache. He wore no insignia of 
 office. Indeed, as Maurice gazed from one man to 
 the next he saw that there were no officers; and it 
 came to him that these were not soldiers of the 
 king. He was in a trap. He thought quickly. 
 Fitzgerald was in trouble, perhaps on his account. 
 Where was he? 
 
 "I do not see my friend who sprained his ankle," 
 he said coolly. 
 
 This declaration was greeted with laughter. 
 
 "Evidently I have entered the wrong room," he 
 continued imperturbably. He stepped toward the 
 door, but a burly individual placed his back to it.
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 111 
 
 "Am I a prisoner, or the victim of a practical 
 joke?" 
 
 "Either way," said the man with the frosty 
 mustache. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "You have recently formed a dangerous acquaint- 
 ance, and we desire to aid you in breaking it." 
 
 "Are you aware, gentlemen no, I don't mean 
 gentlemen that I am attached to the American 
 legation in Vienna, and that my person is invio- 
 lable?" 
 
 Everybody laughed again everybody but Maurice. 
 
 "Allow me to correct you," put in the elderly 
 man, who evidently was the leader in the affair. 
 "You are not attached; you are detached. Gentle- 
 men, permit me, M. Carewe, detache of the Amer- 
 ican legation in Vienna, who wishes he had stayed 
 there." 
 
 Maurice saw a brace of revolvers on the mantel. 
 The table stood between. 
 
 "Well," he said, banteringly, "bring on your 
 banquet; the hour is late." 
 
 "That's the way; don't lose your temper, and 
 no harm will come to you." 
 
 "What do you wish of me?" 
 
 "Merely the pleasure of your company. Lieu- 
 tenant, bring out the treasure." 
 
 One of the soldiers entered the next room and 
 soon returned pushing Fitzgerald before him. The 
 Englishman was bound and gagged. 
 
 "How will you have the pheasant served?" asked 
 the leader. 
 
 "Like a gentleman !" cried Maurice, letting out
 
 112 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 a little of his anger. "Take out the gag; he will 
 not cry." 
 
 The leader nodded, and Fitzgerald's mouth was 
 relieved. He spat some blood on the carpet, then 
 looked at his captors, the devil in his eyes. 
 
 "Proceed to kill me and have done," he said- 
 
 "Kill you? No, no!" 
 
 "I advise you to, for if you do not kill me, some 
 day I shall be free again, and then God help some 
 of you." 
 
 Maurice gazed at the candles on the table, and 
 smiled. 
 
 "I'm sorry they dragged you into it, Maurice," 
 said Fitzgerald. 
 
 "I'm glad they did. What you want is com- 
 pany." There was a glance, swift as light. It 
 went to the mantel, then passed to the captive. 
 "Well," said Maurice, "what is next on your 
 damned program?" 
 
 "The other side of the frontier." 
 
 "Maybe," said Maurice. 
 
 With an unexpected movement he sent the table 
 over, the lights went out; and he had judged the 
 distance so accurately that he felt his hands close 
 over the revolvers. 
 
 "The door! the door!" a voice bawled. "Knock 
 down any one who attempts to pass." 
 
 This was precisely what Maurice desired. With 
 the soldiers massed about the door, he would be 
 free to liberate Fitzgerald; which he did. He had 
 scarcely completed the task, when a flame spurted 
 up. The leader fearlessly lit a candle and righted 
 the table. He saw both his prisoners, one of them
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 113 
 
 with extended arms, at the ends of which glistened 
 revolver barrels. 
 
 "The devil!" he said. 
 
 "Maybe it is/' replied Maurice. "Now, my gay 
 banqueteers, open the door; and the first man who 
 makes a suspicious movement will find that I'm a 
 tolerable shot." 
 
 "Seize him, your Excellency !" shouted one of the 
 troopers. "Those are my revolvers he has, and 
 they are not loaded."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE RED CHATEAU 
 
 Two o'clock in the morning, on the king's high- 
 way, and a small body of horse making progress. 
 The moon was beginning to roll away toward the 
 west, but the world was still frost-white, and the 
 broad road stretched out like a silver ribbon be- 
 fore the horsemen, until it was lost in the blue 
 mist of the forests. 
 
 The troop consisted of ten men, two of whom 
 rode with their hands tied behind their backs and 
 their feet fastened under the bellies of the horses. 
 The troop was not conspicuous for this alone. 
 Three others had their heads done up in handker- 
 chiefs, and a fourth carried his arm in a sling. 
 
 Five miles to the rear lay the sleeping city of 
 Bleiberg, twenty miles beyond rose the formidable 
 heights of the Thalians. At times the horses went 
 forward at a gallop, but more often they walked; 
 when they galloped the man with his arm in the 
 sling complained. Whenever the horses dropped 
 into a walk, the leader talked to one of the pris- 
 oners. 
 
 "You fight like the very devil, my friend," he 
 said; "but we were too many by six. Mind, I 
 114
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 115 
 
 think none the less of you for your .attempt; free- 
 dom is always worth fighting for. As I said be- 
 fore, no harm is meant to you, physically; as to 
 the moral side, that doesn't concern me. You have 
 disabled four of my men, and have scarcely a dozen 
 scratches to show for it. I wanted to take only 
 four men with me; I was ordered to take eight. 
 The hand of providence is in it." 
 
 ''You wouldn't be so polite, Colonel," spoke up 
 the trooper whose arm was in the sling, "if you 
 had got this crack." 
 
 "Baron, who told you to call me Colonel?" the 
 leader demanded. 
 
 "Why, we are out of the city; there's no harm 
 now that I can see." 
 
 "Is it possible," said Maurice ironically, "that I 
 have had the honor of hitting a baron on the 
 head and breaking his arm?" 
 
 The baron muttered a curse and fell back. 
 
 "And you," went on Maurice, addressing the 
 leader, "are a Colonel?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "For the duchess?" 
 
 "For the duchess." 
 
 "A black business for you, Colonel; take my 
 word for it." 
 
 "A black business it is; but orders are orders 
 Have you ever been a soldier?" 
 
 "I have." 
 
 "Well, there's nothing more to be said." 
 
 "America ' Maurice began. 
 
 "Is several thousand miles away." 
 
 "Not if you reckon from Vienna."
 
 116 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "I'd rather not reckon, if it's all the same to 
 you. Your friend I might say, your very valu- 
 able friend takes the matter too much to heart" 
 
 "He's not a talkative man." 
 
 Fitzgerald looked straight ahead, stern and im- 
 passive. 
 
 "But now that we are talking," said Maurice, 
 "I should like to know how the deuce you got 
 hold of my name and dragged me into this affair?" 
 
 "Simple enough. A card of yours was given to 
 me; on it was your name and address. The rest 
 was easy." 
 
 Maurice grew limp in the saddle. 
 
 "By George ! I had forgotten ! The woman is 
 at the bottom of it." 
 
 "Quite likely. I thought you'd come to that 
 conclusion. Sometimes when we play with foxes 
 they lead us into bear traps. Young man, witness 
 these gray hairs; never speak to strange women, 
 especially when they wear veils." 
 
 Fitzgerald was now attending the conversation. 
 
 "And who is this woman?" asked Maurice. 
 
 "Mademoiselle of the Veil, according to your 
 picturesque imagination; to me she is the inti- 
 mate friend and adviser of her Highness Stephonia." 
 He wheeled to the troopers with a laugh: "Hoch, 
 you beggars, hoch!" 
 
 Maurice indulged in some uncomplimentary re- 
 marks, among which was: "I'm an ass!" 
 
 "Every man improves on making that discovery; 
 the Darwinian theory is wrong." 
 
 After a pause Maurice said: "How did you get 
 on the ground so quickly?"
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 117 
 
 "We arrived yesterday afternoon as the escort 
 of your charmer. A pretty woman finds it trouble- 
 some to travel alone in these parts. When you 
 slapped your friend on the back and bawled out 
 his name a name known from one end of the 
 kingdom to the other the plan of action was im- 
 mediately formed. You were necessary, for it was 
 taken for granted that you knew too much. You 
 had also promised your sword," with a chuckle. 
 
 "I made no promise," said Maurice. "I only 
 said that I should easily be found when wanted." 
 
 "Well, so you were; there's no gainsaying that." 
 
 Maurice said some more uncomplimentary things. 
 
 "It was neatly done, you will admit. Life is 
 a game of cards; he wins who plays first." 
 
 "Or he doesn't. Colonel, a game is won only 
 when it is played." 
 
 "That's true enough." 
 
 "Kings are a tolerable bother on earth," Maurice 
 declared, trying to ease his wrists by holding them 
 higher against his back. 
 
 "What do you know about them?" 
 
 "When I was in the army I often fell in with 
 three or four of a night." 
 
 "Eh? kings?" 
 
 "Yes; but usually I was up against aces or 
 straight flushes." 
 
 "Cards! Well, well; when you get down to the 
 truth of the matter, real kings differ but little 
 from the kings in pasteboard; right side up, or 
 wrong side up, they serve the purpose of those wh > 
 play them. There's a poor, harmless devil bncJ 
 there," with a nod toward Bleiberg. "He m
 
 118 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 injured a soul. Perhaps that's it; had he been 
 cruel, avaricious, sly, all of them would be cring- 
 ing at his feet. Devil take me but I'm a soldier," 
 he broke off abruptly; "it's none of my business." 
 
 "Have you any titles?" Maurice asked presently. 
 
 "Titles?" The Colonel jerked around on his 
 horse. "Why?" 
 
 "0," said Maurice carelessly, "I thought it not 
 unlikely that you might have a few lying around 
 loose." 
 
 The Colonel roared. "You Americans beat the 
 very devil with your questions. Well, I am politely 
 known as Count Mollendorf, if that will gratify 
 you." 
 
 "What! brother of Mollendorf of the king's 
 police ?" 
 
 "God save the mark! No; I am an honest man 
 some of the time." 
 
 Maurice laughed; the old fellow was amusing, 
 and besides, this conversation helped to pass away 
 the time. 
 
 "Wake up, Jack; here's entertainment," he said. 
 
 A scowl added itself to the stern expression on 
 Fitzgerald's face. 
 
 "I trust that none of your teeth are loose," ven- 
 tured the Colonel. 
 
 "If they are, they'll be tight enough ere many 
 days have passed," was the threatening reply. 
 
 "Beware the dog!" cried the Colonel, and he re- 
 sumed his place at the head of the little troop. 
 
 Maurice took this opportunity to bend toward 
 Fitzgerald. "Have you anything of importance 
 about you?" he whispered significantly.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 119 
 
 "Nothing. But God send that no chambermaid 
 change the sheet in my bed at the hotel." 
 
 "Are they" 
 
 "Silence." Fitzgerald saw the trooper next with 
 his hand to his ear. 
 
 After a time the Colonel sang out: "Fifteen 
 miles more, with three on the other side, men; we 
 must put more life into us. A trot for a few 
 miles. The quicker the ride is done, baron, the 
 quicker the surgeon will look to your arm." 
 
 And silence fell upon the troop. Occasionally 
 a stray horse in the fields whinneyed, and was an- 
 swered from the road; sometimes the howl of a 
 dog broke the monotony. On and on they rode; 
 hour and mile were left behind them. The moon 
 fell lower and lower, and the mountains rose 
 higher and higher, and the wind which had risen 
 had a frosty sting to it. Maurice now began to 
 show the true state of his temper by cursing his 
 horse whenever it rubbed against one of its fel- 
 lows. His back was lame, and there was a dull 
 pain in one of his shoulders. When he had made 
 the rush for the door, clubbing right and left with 
 the empty revolvers, he had finally been thrown 
 on an overturned chair. 
 
 "Here, hang you !" he said to the trooper who 
 held the bridle of his horse, "I'm cold; you might 
 at least turn up my collar about my throat." 
 
 "You are welcome to my cloak," said the 
 trooper, disengaging that article from his shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 "Thank you," said Maurice, somewhat abashed 
 by the respectful tone.
 
 120 
 
 The trooper offered his blanket to Fitzgerald. 
 
 "I wish no favors," said the Englishman, thank- 
 lessly. 
 
 The trooper shrugged, and caught up Maurice's 
 bridle. 
 
 At length the troop arrived at the frontier. 
 There was no sign of life at the barrack. They 
 passed unchallenged. 
 
 "What I" exclaimed Maurice, "do they sleep here 
 at night, then? A fine frontier barrack." He had 
 lived in hopes of more disturbance and a possible 
 chance for liberty. 
 
 "They will wake up to-day," answered the 
 Colonel; "that is, if the wine we gave them was 
 not too strong. Poor devils; they must be good 
 and cold by this time, since we have their clothes. 
 What do you think of a king whose soldiers drink 
 with any strangers who chance along?" 
 
 Maurice became resigned. To him the present 
 dynasty was as fragile as glass, and it needed but 
 one strong blow to shatter it into atoms. And the 
 one hope rode at his side, sullen and wrathful, but 
 impotent; the one hope the king had to save his 
 throne. Hs had come to Bleiberg in search of ex- 
 citement, but this was altogether more than he 
 had bargained for. 
 
 The horses began to lift and were soon wind- 
 ing in and out of the narrow mountain pass. Th*> 
 chill of the overhanging snows fell upon them. 
 
 "It wouldn't have hurt you to accept the 
 blanket," said Maurice to Fitzgerald. 
 
 "Curse it ! I want nothing but two minutes' 
 freedom. It would be warm enough then."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 121 
 
 "No confidences, gentlemen," warned the Colonel ; 
 "I understand English tolerably well." 
 
 "Go to the devil, then, if you do!" said Fitz- 
 gerald discourteously. 
 
 "When the time comes," tranquilly. "Of the 
 two I like your friend the better. To be resigned 
 to the inevitable is a sign of good mental balance." 
 
 "I am not used to words," replied the English- 
 man. 
 
 "You are used to orders. I am simply obeying 
 mine. If I took you off your guard it was because 
 I had to, and not because I liked that method 
 best. Look alive, men; it's down hill from now 
 on." 
 
 A quarter of an hour later the troop arrived at 
 the duchy's frontier post. There was no sleep 
 here. The Colonel flung himself from his horse 
 and exercised his legs. 
 
 "Sergeant," he said, "how far behind the others?" 
 
 "They passed two hours ago, Excellency. And 
 all is well?" deferentially. 
 
 "All is indeed well," with a gesture toward the 
 prisoners. 
 
 "I've a flask of brandy in my hip pocket," said 
 Maurice. "Will you help me to a nip, Colonel?" 
 
 "Pardon me, gentlemen; I had forgotten that 
 your hands were still in cords. Corporal," to a 
 trooper, "relieve their hands." 
 
 The prisoners rubbed their wrists and hands, 
 which were numb and cold. Maurice produced his 
 flask. 
 
 "I was bringing it along for your sprained 
 ankle," he said, as he extended the flask to Fitz-
 
 122 THE PUPPET CROW^ 
 
 gerald, who drank a third of it. "I'd offer you 
 some, Colonel, only it would be like heaping coals 
 of fire on your head; and, besides, I want it all 
 myself." He returned the emptied flask to his 
 pocket, feeling a moderate warmth inside. 
 
 "Drink away, my son/' said the Colonel, climb- 
 ing into the saddle; "there'll be plenty for me for 
 this night's work. Forward !" 
 
 The troop took up the march again, through 
 a splendid forest kept clear of dead wood by the 
 peasants. It abounded with game. The shrill cry 
 of the pheasants, the rustle of the partridges in 
 the underbrush, the bark of the fox, all rose to 
 the ears of the trespassers. The smell of warm 
 earth permeated the air, and the sky was merging 
 from silver into gold. 
 
 When ISTapoleon humiliated Austria for the sec- 
 ond time, one of his mushroom nobles, who placed 
 too much faith in the man of destiny, selected 
 this wooded paradise as a residence. He built him 
 a fine castle of red brick, full of wide halls and 
 drawing rooms and chambers of state, and filled 
 it with fabulous paintings, Gobelin tapestries, and 
 black walnut wainscot. He kept a small garrison 
 of French soldiers by converting the huge stables 
 partly into a barrack. One night the peasantry 
 rose. There was a conflict, as the walls still show; 
 and the prince by patent fled, no one knew where. 
 After its baptism in blood it became known far 
 and wide as the Red Chateau. Whenever children 
 were unruly, they were made docile by threats of 
 the dark dungeons of the Red Chateau, or the ghosts 
 of the French and German peasants who died
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 123 
 
 there. As it now stood, it was one of the summer 
 residences of her Highness. 
 
 It was here that the long night's journey came 
 to an end. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the Colonel, dismounting, 
 "permit me, in the name of her Highness, to offer 
 you the hospitality of Red Chateau. Consider; will 
 you lighten my task by giving me your word of 
 honor to make no attempt to escape? Escape is 
 possible, but not probable. There are twenty fresh 
 men and horses in the stables. Come, be reason- 
 able. It will be pleasanter on both sides." 
 
 "So far as I'm concerned," said Maurice, who 
 needed liberty not half so much as sleep, "I pass 
 my word." 
 
 "And you, sir?" to Fitzgerald. 
 
 Fitzgerald gazed about him. "Very well," he 
 said, as he saw the futility of a struggle. 
 
 "Your humble servant, Messieurs," touching his 
 cap. "Take the ropes off their ankles, men." 
 
 When Maurice was lifted from his horse and 
 placed on the ground, his legs suddenly bent under 
 him, and he went sprawling to the grass. A 
 trooper sprang to his assistance. 
 
 "My legs have gone to sleep !" 
 
 The Englishman was affected likewise, and it 
 WMS some moments before either could walk. They 
 were conducted to a chamber high up in the left 
 wing, which overlooked the forest and the moun- 
 tain?. It was a large airy room, but the windows 
 were barred and there were double locks on the 
 doors. The Colonel followed them into the room 
 and pointed to the table.
 
 124 THE PUPPET CROWN" 
 
 "Breakfast, Messieurs, and a good sleep for you 
 till this noon. As for the rest, let that take care 
 of itself.'' And he left them. 
 
 Maurice, after having tried all the bars and 
 locks in answer to his conscience, gave his atten- 
 tion to the breakfast. On lifting the covers he 
 found fish, eggs, toast and coffee. 
 
 "Here's luck !" he cried. "We were expected." 
 
 "Curse it, Maurice !" Fitzgerald began pacing 
 the robin. 
 
 "Xo, no," said Maurice; "let us eat it; that's 
 what it's here for," and he fell to with that vigor 
 known only to healthy blood. 
 
 "But what's to be done?" 
 
 "Follow Solomon's advice, and wait." 
 
 "You're taking it cursed cool." 
 
 "Force of habit," breaking the toast. "What's 
 the use of wasting powder? Because I have shown 
 only the exterior, our friend the Colonel has al- 
 ready formed an opinion of me. I am brave if 
 need be, but young and careless. In a day or so 
 for I suppose we are not to be liberated at once 
 he'll forget to use proper caution in respect to me. 
 And then, 'who can say?' as the Portuguese says 
 when he hasn't anything else to say. They'll keep 
 a strict watch over you, my friend, because you've 
 played the lion too much. Just before I left the 
 States, as you call them, a new slang phrase was 
 going the rounds; 'it is better to play the fox 
 some of the time than to roar all of the time.' 
 Ergo, be foxy. Take it cool. So long as you 
 haven't got that mint packed about your person, 
 the game breaks even." 
 
 "But the king!"
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 125 
 
 "Is as secure on his throne as he ever was. If 
 you do not present those consols, either for renewal 
 or collection, on the twentieth, he loses nothing. 
 As you said, let us hope that the chambermaid is 
 a shifty, careless lass, who will not touch your 
 room till you return." Maurice broke an egg and 
 dropped a lump of sugar into his cup. 
 
 "Is this the way you fight Indians?" 
 
 "Indians? What the deuce has fighting Indians 
 to do with this? As to Indians, shoot them in the 
 back if you can. Here, everything depends not on 
 fighting but the right use of words. A man may 
 be a diplomat and not render his country any 
 large benefit; still, it's a fine individual training. 
 Thrones stand on precipices and are pushed back 
 to safety by. the trick of a few words. Have an 
 egg; they're fresh." 
 
 Fitzgerald sat down and gulped his coffee. 
 "They broke my monocle in the struggle." 
 
 Maurice choked in his cup. 
 
 "I've worn it twelve years, too," went on Fitz- 
 gerald. 
 
 "Everything is for the best," said Maurice. "You 
 will be able to see out of both eyes." 
 
 "Confound you !" cried Fitzgerald, smiling in 
 spite of himself; "nothing will disturb you." 
 
 "You mean, nothing shall. Now, there's the 
 bed and there's the lounge. Since you are the 
 principal, that is to say, the constituent part of 
 this affair, and also the principal actor in this ex- 
 travaganza, suppose you take the bed and leave 
 me the lounge? And the deuce take the duchess, 
 who is probably a woman with a high forehead
 
 126 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 and a pair of narrow eyes !'* He threw down his 
 napkin and made for the lounge, without giving 
 any particular attention to the smile and frown 
 which were struggling in the Englishman's eyes. 
 In less than a minute Maurice was dozing. 
 
 Fitzgerald thought that the best thing he could 
 do was to follow the philosophical example of his 
 friend. "These Americans," he mused, as he ar- 
 ranged the pillow under his ear, "are 'fifteen puz- 
 zles'; you can move them, or you can't." 
 
 As for Maurice, he was already dreaming; he 
 was too tired to sleep. Presently he thought he 
 was on a horse again, and was galloping, gallop- 
 ing. He was heading his old company to the very 
 fringe of the alkali. The Apaches had robbed the 
 pay train and killed six men, and the very deuce 
 was to pay all around. . . . Again he was 
 swimming, and a beautiful girl reached out a 
 hand and saved him. Ah ! how beautiful she was, 
 how soft and rich the deep brown of her eyes ! 
 . . . The scene shifted. The president of the 
 South American republic had accepted his sword 
 (unbeknown to the United States authorities), and 
 he was aiding to quell the insurrection. And just 
 then some one whispered to him that gold would 
 rise fifty points. And as he put out his hands to 
 gather in the glittering coins which were raining 
 down, the face of Colonel Beauvais loomed up, 
 scowling and furious. . . . And yet again came 
 the beautiful girl. He was holding her hand and 
 the archbishop had his spread out in benediction 
 over their heads. ... A hand, which was not 
 of dreamland, shook him by the arm. He opened
 
 THE PUPPET CEOWN 127 
 
 his eyes. Fitzgerald was standing over him. The 
 light of the sun spangled the walls opposite the 
 windows. The clock marked the eleventh hour of 
 day. 
 
 "Hang you !" he said, with blinking eyes ; "why 
 didn't you let me be? I was just marrying the 
 princess, and you've spoiled it all. I " He 
 jumped to his feet and rubbed his eyes, and, for- 
 getful of all save his astonishment, pursed his lips 
 into a low whistle.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 NOTHING MORE SERIOUS THAN A HOUSE PARTY 
 
 Standing just within 'the door, smiling and rub- 
 bing the gray bristles on his lip, was the Colonel. 
 In the center of the room stood a woman dressed 
 in gray. Maurice recognized the dress; it belonged 
 to Mademoiselle of the Veil, who was now sans 
 veil, sans hat. A marvelous face was revealed to 
 Maurice, a face of that peculiar beauty which 
 poets and artists are often minded to den}-, but 
 for the love of which men die, become great or 
 terrible, overturn empires and change the map of 
 the world. 
 
 Her luxuriant hair, which lay in careless masses 
 about the shapely head and intelligent brow, was 
 a mixture of red and brown and gold, a variety 
 which never ceases to charm; skin the pallor of 
 ancient marble, with the shadow of rose lying 
 below the eyes, the large, gray chatoyant eyes, 
 which answered every impulse of the brain which 
 ruled them. The irregularity of her features was 
 never noticeable after a glance into those eyes. At 
 this moment both eyes and lips expressed a shade 
 of amusement. 
 
 Maurice, who was astonished never more than 
 128
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 129 
 
 a minute at a time, immediately recovered. His 
 toilet was somewhat disarranged, and the back of 
 his head a crow's nest, but, nevertheless, he placed 
 a hand over his heart and offered a low obeisance. 
 
 "Good morning, gentlemen," she said, in a voice 
 which Maurice would have known anywhere. "I 
 hope the journey has caused you no particular an- 
 noyance." 
 
 "The annoyance was not so particular, Madame/' 
 said Fitzgerald stiffly, "as it was general." 
 
 "And four of my troopers will take oath to 
 that!" interjected the Colonel. 
 
 "Will Madame permit me to ask when will the 
 opera begin?" asked Maurice. 
 
 "I am glad," said she, "that you have lost none 
 of your freshness." 
 
 Maurice was struck for a moment, but soon saw 
 that the remark was innocent of any inelegance 
 of speech. Fitzgerald was gnawing his mustache 
 and looking out of the corner of his eyes into 
 hers. 
 
 "My task, I confess, is a most disagreeable one," 
 she resumed, lightly beating her gauntlets to- 
 gether; "but when one serves high personages one 
 is supposed not to have any sentiments." To 
 Fitzgerald she said: "You are the son of the 
 late Lord Fitzgerald." 
 
 "For your sake, I regret to say that I am." 
 
 "For my sake? Worry yourself none on that 
 point. As the agent of her Highness I am incon- 
 siderable." 
 
 "Madame," said Maurice, "will you do us the
 
 130 THE PUPPET C 17 W X 
 
 honor to inform us to whom we are indebted for 
 this partiality to our distinguished persons?" 
 
 "I am Sylvia Amerbach/' quietly. 
 
 "Amerbach?" said Maurice, who was familiar 
 with the great names of the continent. "Pardon 
 me, but that was once a famous name in Prussia." 
 
 "I am distantly related to that house of princes," 
 looking at her gauntlets. 
 
 "Well, Madame, since your business doubtless 
 concerns me, pray, begin;" and Fitzgerald leaned 
 against the mantelpiece and fumbled with the rim 
 of his monocle. 
 
 Maurice walked to one of the windows and 
 perched himself on the broad sill. He began to 
 whistle softly: 
 
 Void le sabre de mon p&re! 
 
 Tu ras le mettre d, ton cdte. . . . 
 
 Beyond the window, at the edge of the forest, 
 he saw a sentinel pacing backward and forward. 
 Indeed, no matter which way he looked, the au- 
 tumnal scenery had this accessory. Again, he in- 
 spected the bars. These were comparatively new. 
 It was about thirty feet to the court below. On the 
 whole, the outlook was discouraging. 
 
 "Count," said the distant relative of the house 
 of Amerbach, "how shall I begin?" 
 
 "I am not a diplomat, Madame," answered tho 
 Colonel. "If, however, you wish the advice of a 
 soldier, I should begin by asking if my lord the 
 Englishman has those consols about his person." 
 
 "Fie, count!" she cried, laughing; "one would 
 say that was a prelude to robbery."
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 131 
 
 "So they would. As for myself, I prefer vio- 
 lence to words. If we take these pretty papers by 
 violence, we shall still have left our friend the 
 Englishman his self-respect. And as for words, 
 while my acquaintance with our friend is slight, I 
 should say that they would only be wasted here." 
 
 The whistle from the window still rose and 
 fell. 
 
 "Monsieur, I have it in my power to make you 
 rich." 
 
 "I am rich," replied Fitzgerald. 
 
 "In honors?" 
 
 ''Madame, the title I have is already a burden 
 to me." Fitzgerald laughed, which announced 
 that the cause of the duchess was not getting on 
 very well. Once or twice he raised the tortoise- 
 shell rim to his eye, but dropped it; force of habit 
 was difficult to overcome. 
 
 "Your father nourished a particular rancor 
 against the late duke." 
 
 "And justly, you will admit." 
 
 "Her Highness has offered you five millions for 
 slips of paper worth no more than the ink which 
 decorates them." 
 
 "And I have refused. Why? Simply because 
 the matter does not rest with me. You have pro- 
 ceeded with a high hand, Madame, or rather your 
 duchess has. Nothing will come of it. Had there 
 been any possibility of my considering your pro- 
 posals, this kidnaping would have destroyed it." 
 
 She smiled. Maurice saw the smile and stopped 
 whistling long enough to scratch his chin, which 
 was somewhat in need of a razor. He had seen
 
 132 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 many women smile that way. He had learned to 
 read it. It was an inarticulate "perhaps." 
 
 "The rightful successor to the throne " 
 
 "Is Madame the duchess," Fitzgerald completed. 
 "I haven't the slightest doubt of that. One way 
 or the other, it does not concern me. I came here 
 simply to fulfill the wishes of my father; and my 
 word, Madame, fulfill them I shall. You are hold- 
 ing me a prisoner, but uselessly. On the twentieth 
 the certificates fall due against the government. 
 If they are not presented either for renewal or 
 collection, the bankruptcy scheme of your duchess 
 will fall through just the same. I will tell you 
 the truth, Madame. My father never expected to 
 collect the moneys so long as Leopold sat on the 
 throne." 
 
 The whistle grew shrill. 
 
 "This officer here," continued Fitzgerald, while 
 the Colonel made a comical grimace, "suggests vio- 
 lence. I shall save him the trouble. I have seen 
 much of the world, Madame the hard side of it 
 and, knowing it as I do, it is scarcely probable 
 that I should carry about my person the equiva- 
 lent of four millions of crowns." 
 
 "Well, Madame," said the Colonel, pushing his 
 belt closer about his hips, as a soldier always does 
 when he is on the point of departure, "what he 
 says is true, every word of it. I see nothing more 
 to do at present." 
 
 Mademoiselle of the Veil was paying not so 
 much attention to the Colonel's words as she was to 
 Maurice's whistle.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWV 133 
 
 "Monsieur," she said, coldly, "have you no other 
 tune in your repertory?" 
 
 "Pardon me I" exclaimed Maurice. "I did not 
 intend to annoy you." He stepped down out of 
 the window. 
 
 "You do not annoy me; only the tune grows 
 rather monotonous." 
 
 "I will whistle anything you may suggest," he 
 volunteered. 
 
 She did not respond to this flippancy, though 
 the pupils of her gray eyes grew large with anger. 
 She walked the length of the room and back. 
 
 "Count, what do you think would be most satis- 
 factory to her Highness, under the circumstances?" 
 
 "I have yet to hear of her Highness' disapproval 
 of anything you undertake." 
 
 "Messieurs, your parole d'lionneur, and the free- 
 dom of the chateau is yours within the sentry 
 lines. I wish to make your recollections of the 
 Red Chateau rather pleasant than otherwise. I 
 shall be most happy if you will honor my table 
 with your presence." 
 
 The Colonel coughed, Maurice smoothed the back 
 of his head, and Fitzgerald caught up his monocle. 
 
 "My word, Madame," said Maurice, "is not 
 worth much, being that of a diplomat, but such 
 as it is it is yours. However, my clothes are 
 scarcely presentable," which was true enough. Sev- 
 eral buttons were missing, and the collar hung by 
 a thread. 
 
 "That can be easily remedied," said she. "There 
 are several new hussar uniforms in the armory." 
 
 "0, Madame, and you will permit me to wear
 
 134 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 one of those gay uniforms of light blue and silver 
 lace?" 
 
 The Colonel looked thoughtfully at Maurice. He 
 was too much a banterer himself to miss the un- 
 dercurrent of raillery. He eyed Madame dis- 
 creetly; he saw that she had accepted merely the 
 surface tones. 
 
 "And you will wear one, too, Jack?" said 
 Maurice. 
 
 "No, thank you. I pass my word, Madame; I 
 do not like confinement." 
 
 "Well, then, the count will shortly return and 
 establish you in better quarters. Let us suppose 
 you are my guests for a a fortnight. Since both 
 of us are right, since neither your cause nor mine 
 is wrong, an armistice! Ah! I forgot. The east 
 corridor on the third floor is forbidden you. 
 Should you mistake and go that way, a guard will 
 direct you properly. Messieurs, till dinner!" and 
 with a smile which illumined her face as a sudden 
 burst of sunshine flashes across a hillside, she 
 passed out of the room, followed by her hench- 
 man, who had not yet put aside the thoughtful 
 repose of his countenance. 
 
 "A house part}*," said Maurice, when he could 
 no longer hear their footsteps. "And what the 
 deuce have they got so valuable in the east cor- 
 ridor on the third floor?" 
 
 "It's small matter to me," said Fitzgerald tran- 
 quilly. "The main fact is that she has given up 
 her game." 
 
 Said Maurice, his face expressing both pity and 
 astonishment: "My dear, dear John! Didn't you
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 135 
 
 see that woman's eyes, her hair, her chin, her 
 nose ?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "True; you haven't had any experience with pet- 
 ticoats. This woman will rend heaven and earth 
 rather than relinquish her projects, or rather those 
 of her mistress. I should like to see this duchess, 
 who shows a fine discernment in the selection of 
 her assistants. Beware of the woman who is frankly 
 your enemy. If she is frank, it is because she is 
 confident of the end; if not, she is frank in order 
 to disarm us of the suspicion of cunning. I 
 would give much to know the true meaning of 
 this house party." 
 
 "Hang me if I can see what difference it makes. 
 She can not do anything either by frankness or 
 by cunning." 
 
 "She gathered us in neatly, this red-haired 
 Amazon." 
 
 "Red-haired !" in a kind of protest. 
 
 "Why, yes; that's the color, isn't it?" inno- 
 cently. 
 
 "I thought it a red-brown. It's too bad that 
 such a woman should be mixed up in an affair 
 like this." 
 
 "Woman will sacrifice to ambition what she 
 never will sacrifice to love. Hush; I hear the 
 Colonel returning." 
 
 They were conducted to the opposite wing of 
 the chateau, to a room on the second floor. Its 
 windows afforded an excellent view of the land 
 which lay south. Hills rolled away like waves
 
 136 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 of gold, dotted here and there with vineyards. 
 Through the avenue of trees they could see the 
 highway, and beyond, the river, which had its 
 source in the mountains ten miles eastward. 
 
 The room itself was in red, evidently a state 
 chamber, for it contained two canopied beds. 
 Several fine paintings hung from the walls, and 
 between the two windows rose one of those pier 
 glasses which owe their existence to the first em- 
 pire of France. On one of the beds Maurice saw 
 the hussar uniform. On the dresser were razors 
 and mugs and a pitcher of hot water. 
 
 "Ah/* he said, with satisfaction. 
 
 "The boots may not fit you," said the Colonel, 
 'but if they do not we will manage some way." 
 
 "I shall not mind the fortnight," said Maurice. 
 "By the way, Colonel, I notice that French seems 
 to prevail instead of German. Why is that?" 
 
 "It is the common language of politeness, and 
 servants do not understand it. As for myself, I 
 naturally prefer the German tongue; it is blunt 
 and honest and lacks the finesse of the French, 
 which is full of evasive words and meanings. How- 
 ever, French predominates at court. Besides, 
 heaven help the foreigner who tries to learn all 
 the German tongues to be found in the empires 
 of the Hohenzollern and Hapsburg. Luncheon will 
 be served to you in the dining hall; the first door 
 to the right at the foot of the grand staircase. 
 I shall send you a trooper to act as valet." 
 
 "Spare me, Colonel," said Maurice, who did not 
 want any one between him and the Englishman 
 when they were alone.
 
 THE PUPPET CHOWN 137 
 
 "I have never had a valet," said Fitzgerald; 
 "he would embarrass me/' 
 
 "As you please," said the Colonel, a shade of 
 disappointment in his tones. "After all, you are 
 soldiers, where every man is for himself. Make 
 yourselves at home;" and he withdrew. 
 
 .Maurice at once applied lather and razor, and 
 put on the handsome uniform, which fitted him 
 snugly. The coat was tailless, with rows of silver 
 buttons running from collar to waist. The breast 
 and shoulders and sleeves were covered with sil- 
 ver lace, and Maurice concluded that it must 
 be nothing less than a captain's uniform. The 
 trousers were tight fitting, with broad stripes of 
 silver; and the half boots were of patent leather. 
 He walked backward and forward before the pier- 
 glass. 
 
 "I say, Fitz, what do you think of it?" 
 
 "You're a handsome rascal, Maurice," answered 
 the Englishman, who had watched his young 
 friend, amusement in his sober eyes. "Happily, 
 there are no young women present." 
 
 "Go to! I'll lay odds that our hostess is under 
 twenty-five." 
 
 "I meant young women of sixteen or seventeen. 
 Women such as Madame have long since passed the 
 uniform fever." 
 
 "N"ot when it has lace, my friend, court lace. 
 Well, forward to the dining hall." 
 
 Both were rather disappointed to find that 
 Madame would be absent until dinner. Fitzgerald 
 could not tell exactly why he was disappointed, 
 and he was angry with himself for the vague re-
 
 138 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 gret. Maurice, however, found consolation in the 
 demure French maid who served them. Every 
 time he smiled she made a courtesy, and every time 
 she left the room Maurice nudged Fitzgerald. 
 
 "Smile, confound you, smile !" he whispered. 
 "There's never a maid but has her store of gossip, 
 and gossip is information." 
 
 "Pshaw !" said Fitzgerald, helping himself to 
 cold ham and chicken. 
 
 "Wine, Messieurs?" asked the maid. 
 
 "Ah, then Madame offers the cellars?" said 
 Maurice. 
 
 "Yes, Messieurs. There is chambertin, cham- 
 pagne, chablis, tokayer and sherry." 
 
 "Bring us some chambertin, then." 
 
 "Oui, Messieurs." 
 
 "'Hurry along, my Hebe," said Maurice. 
 
 The maid was not on familiar terms with the 
 classics, but she told the butler in the pantry 
 that the smooth-faced one made a charming Cap- 
 tain. 
 
 "Keep your eyes open," grumbled the butler; 
 "he'll be kissing you next." 
 
 "He might do worse," was the retort. Even 
 maids have their mirrors, and hers told a pretty 
 story. When she returned with the wine she 
 asked: "And shall I ]i<wr it, Messieurs?" 
 
 "No one else shall/' declared Maurice. "When 
 is the duchess to arrive?" 
 
 "I do not know, Monsieur," stepping in between 
 the chairs and filling the glasses with the ruby 
 liquid. 
 
 "Who is Madame Sylvia Amerbach?" 
 
 "Madame Sylvia Amerbach," placing the bottle
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 139 
 
 on the table and going to the sideboard. She re- 
 turned with a box of "Khedives." 
 
 Fitzgerald laughed at Maurice's disconcertion. 
 
 "Where has Madame gone?" 
 
 "To the summer home of Countess Herzberg, 
 who is to return with Madame." 
 
 "Oho !" cried Maurice, in English. "A countess ! 
 What do you say to that, my Englishman?" 
 
 "She is probably old and plain. Madame de- 
 sires a chaperon." 
 
 "You forget that Madame desires nothing but 
 those certificates. And the chaperon does not live 
 who could keep an eye on Madame Sylvia Amer- 
 bach." 
 
 The mention of the certificates brought back all 
 the Englishman's discomfort, and he emptied his 
 glass of wine not as a lover of good wine should. 
 Soon they rose from the table. The maid ran to 
 the door and held it open. Fitzgerald hurried 
 through, but Maurice lingered a moment. He put 
 his hand under the porcelain chin and looked into 
 the china-blue eyes. Fitzgerald turned. 
 
 "What was that noise?" he asked, as Maurice 
 shouldered him along the hall. 
 
 "What noise?" 
 
 Madame came back to the chateau at five, and 
 dinner was announced at eight. The Countess Her/- 
 berg was young and pretty, the possessor of ;i 
 beautiful mouth and a charming smile. The 
 Colonel did the honors at the table. Maurice al- 
 most fancied himself in Vienna, the setting of the 
 dining room was so perfect. The entire room was
 
 140 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 paneled in walnut. On the mantel over the great 
 fireplace stood silver candlesticks with wax tapers. 
 The candlestick in the center of the table was 
 composed of twelve branches. The cuisine was de- 
 lectable, the wines delicious. Madame and the 
 countess were in evening dress. The Colonel was 
 brimming with anecdote, the countess was witty, 
 Madame was a sister to Aspasia. 
 
 Maurice, while he enjoyed this strange feast, was 
 puzzled. It was very irregular, and the Colonel's 
 gray hairs did not serve to alter this fact. What 
 was the meaning of it? What lay underneath? 
 
 Sometimes he caught Fitzgerald in the act of 
 staring at Madame when her attention was other- 
 wise engaged; at other times he saw that Madame 
 was returning this cursory investigation. There 
 was, however, altogether a different meaning in 
 these surreptitious glances. In the one there were 
 interest, doubt, admiration; in the other, cold cal- 
 culation. At no time did the conversation touch 
 politics, and the crown was a thousand miles 
 away if surface indications went for aught. 
 
 Finally the Colonel rose. "A toast to Madame 
 the duchess, since this is her very best wine!" 
 
 Maurice emptied his glass fast enough; but 
 Fitzgerald lowered his eyes and made no move- 
 ment to raise his glass. The pupils in Madame's 
 eyes grew small. 
 
 "That is scarcely polite, Monsieur," she said. 
 
 "Madame," he replied gently, "my parole did 
 not include toasts to her Highness. My friend 
 loves wine for its own sake, and seldom bothers 
 his head about the toast as long as the wine is
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 141 
 
 good. Permit me to withdraw the duchess and 
 substitute yourself." 
 
 "Do so, if it will please you. In truth, it was 
 bad taste in you, count, to suggest it." 
 
 "It's all the same to me;" and the Colonel re- 
 filled his glass and nodded. 
 
 The countess smiled behind her fan, while 
 Maurice felt the edge of the mild reproach which 
 had been administered to him. 
 
 "I plead guilty to the impeachment. It was 
 very wrong. Far from it that I should drink to 
 the health of the Philistines. Madame the countess 
 was beating me down with her eyes, and I did not 
 think." 
 
 "I was not even looking at you !" declared the 
 countess, blushing. 
 
 The incident was soon forgotten; and at length 
 Madame and the countess rose. 
 
 Said the first: "We will leave you gentlemen 
 to your cigars; and when they have ceased to in- 
 terest you, you will find us in the music room." 
 
 "And you will sing?" said Maurice to the 
 countess. 
 
 "If you wish." She was almost beautiful when 
 she smiled, and she smiled on Maurice. 
 
 "I confess," said he, "that being a prisoner, un- 
 der certain circumstances, is a fine life." 
 
 "What wicked eyes he has," said the countess, 
 as she and Madame entered the music room. 
 
 "Do not look into them too often, my dear," was 
 the rejoinder. "I have asked not other sacrifice 
 than that you should occupy his attention and 
 make him fall in love with you."
 
 142 
 
 "Ah, Madame, that will be easy enough. But 
 what is to prevent me from falling in love with 
 him? He is very handsome." 
 
 "You are laughing!" 
 
 "Yes, I am laughing. It will be such an amus- 
 ing adventure, a souvenir for my old age and 
 may my old age forget me." 
 
 The men lit their cigars and smoked in silence. 
 
 "Colonel," said Maurice at last, "will you 
 kindly tell me what all this means?" 
 
 "Never ask your host how old his wine is. If 
 he is proud of it, he will tell you." He blew the 
 smoke under the candle shades and watched it as 
 it darted upward. "Don't you find it comfort- 
 able? I should." 
 
 "Conscience will not lie down at one's bidding." 
 
 "I understood that you were a diplomat?" The 
 Colonel turned to Fitzgerald. "I hope that, when 
 you are liberated, you will forget the manner in 
 which you were brought here." 
 
 "I shall forget nothing," curtly. 
 
 "The devil ! I can not fight you ; I am too old." 
 
 Fitzgerald said nothing, and continued to play 
 with his emptied wine-glass. 
 
 "The Princess Alexia," went on the Colonel, "has 
 a bulldog. I have always wondered till now what 
 the nationality of the dog was. The bulldog 
 neither forsakes nor forgives; he is an English- 
 man." 
 
 This declaration was succeeded by another in- 
 terval of silence. The Englishman was thinking 
 of his father; the thoughts of Maurice were any-
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 143 
 
 where but at the chateau; the Colonel was contem- 
 plating them both, shrewdly. 
 
 "Well, to the ladies, gentlemen; it is half after 
 nine." 
 
 The countess was seated at the piano, improvis- 
 ing. Madame stood before the fireplace, arrang- 
 ing the pieces on a chess board. In the center 
 of the room was a table littered with books, mag- 
 azines and illustrated weeklies. 
 
 "Do you play chess, Monsieur?" said Madame 
 to Fitzgerald. 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 "Well, Colonel, we will play a game and show 
 him how it is. done." 
 
 Fitzgerald drew up a chair and sat down at 
 Madame's elbow. He followed every move she 
 made because he had never seen till now so round 
 and shapely an arm, hands so small and white, 
 tipped with pink filbert nails. He did not learn 
 the game so quickly as might be. He, like 
 Maurice, was pondering over the unusual position 
 in which he found himself; but analysis of any 
 sort was not his forte; so he soon forgot all save 
 the delicate curve of Madame's chin and throat, 
 the soft ripple of her laughter, the abysmal 
 gray of her eyes. 
 
 "Monsieur le Capitaine," said the countess, "what 
 shall I sing to you?" 
 
 "To me?" said Maurice. "Something from 
 Abt." 
 
 Her fingers ran lightly over the keys, and pres- 
 ently her voice rose in song, a song low, sweet, 
 and sad. Maurice peered out of the window into
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 the shades of night. Visions passed and repassed 
 the curtain of darkness. Once or twice the countess 
 turned her head and looked at him. It was not 
 only a handsome face she saw, but one that car- 
 ried the mark of refinement. . . . Maurice was 
 thinking of the lonely princess and her grave dark 
 eyes. He possessed none of that power from 
 which princes derive benefits; what could he do? 
 And why should he interest himself in a woman 
 who, in any event, could never be anything to 
 him, scarcely even a friend? He smiled. 
 
 If Fitzgerald was not adept at analysis, he was. 
 Nothing ever entered his mind or heart that he 
 could not separate and define. It was strange; it 
 was almost laughable; to have fenced as long and 
 adroitly as he had fenced, and then to be. dis- 
 armed by one who did not even understand the 
 foils ! Surrender ? Why not ? . By and 
 
 by his gaze traveled to the chess players. There 
 was another game than chess being played there, 
 though kings and queens and knights and bishops 
 were still the sum of it. 
 
 "Are you so very far away, then?" The song 
 had ceased; the countess was looking at him curi- 
 ously. 
 
 "Thank you/' he said; "indeed, you had taken 
 me out of myself." 
 
 "Do you like chestnuts?" she asked suddenly. 
 
 "I am very fond of them." 
 
 "Then I shall fetch some." It occurred to her 
 that the room was very warm; she wanted a breath 
 of air alone. 
 
 "Checkmate !" cried the Colonel, joyfully.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 145 
 
 "Do you begin to understand?" asked Madame. 
 
 "A little," admitted Fitzgerald, who did not 
 wish to learn too quickly. "I like to watch the 
 game." 
 
 "So do I," said Maurice, who had approached 
 the table. "I should like to know what the game 
 is, too." 
 
 Both Madame and the Colonel appeared to ac- 
 cept the statement and not the innuendo. Madame 
 placed the figures on the board. 
 
 Maurice strolled over to the table and aimlessly 
 glanced through the Vienna illustrated weeklies. 
 He saw Franz Josef in characteristic poses, full- 
 page engravings of the military maneuvers and re- 
 productions of the notable paintings. He picked 
 up an issue dated June. A portrait of the new 
 Austrian ambassador to France attracted his atten- 
 tion. He turned the leaf. What he saw on the 
 following page caused him to widen his eyes and 
 let slip an ejaculation loud enough to be heard by 
 the chess players. Madame seemed on the point 
 of rising. Maurice did not lower his eyes nor 
 Madame hers. 
 
 "Checkmate in three moves, Madame !" ex- 
 claimed the Colonel ; "it is wonderful." 
 
 "What's the matter, Maurice?" asked Fitzgerald. 
 
 "Jack, I am a ruined man." 
 
 "How? What?" nearly upsetting the board. 
 
 "I just this moment remember that I left my 
 gas burning at the hotel, and it is extra." 
 
 The Colonel and Fitzgerald lay back in their 
 chairs and roared with laughter. 
 
 But Madame did not even smile.
 
 CHAPTEE X 
 
 BEIXG OF LOXG RIDES, MAIDS, KISSES AND MESSAGES 
 
 Fitzgerald was first into bed that night. 
 
 "I want to finish this cigar, Jack/' said Maurice, 
 who wished to be alone with his thoughts. He 
 sat in the chair by the window and lifted his feet 
 to the sill. The night wind was warm and 
 odorous. He had found a clue, but through what 
 labyrinth would it lead him? A strange adven- 
 ture, indeed; so strange that he was of half a 
 mind that he dreamed. Prisoners. . . . Why? 
 And these two women alone in this old chateau, a 
 house party. There lay below all this some deep, 
 design. 
 
 Should he warn his friend? Indeed, as yet, 
 of what had he to warn him? To discover 
 Madame to Fitzgerald would be to close the 
 entrance to this labyrinth which he desired to ex- 
 plore. How would Madame act, now that she 
 knew he possessed her secret? Into many chan- 
 nels he passed, but all these were blind, and led 
 him to no end. Madame had a purpose; to dis- 
 cover what this purpose was Fitzgerald must re- 
 main in ignorance. What a woman ! She resem- 
 bled one of those fabulous creatures of medieval 
 146
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 147 
 
 days. And why was the countess on the scene, 
 and what was her part in this invisible game? 
 
 He finished his cigar and lit another; but the 
 second cigar solved no more than the first. 
 Mademoiselle of the Veil! He knew now what 
 she meant; having asked her to lift her veil, she 
 had said, "Something terrible would happen." 
 At last he, too, sought bed, but he did not sleep 
 so soundly as did Fitzgerald. 
 
 Ten days of this charming captivity passed; 
 there was a thicker carpet of leaves on the ground, 
 and new distances began to show mistily through 
 the dismantling forest. But there were no changes 
 at the Eed Chateau no outward changes. It 
 might, in truth, have been a house party but for 
 the prowling troopers and the continual grumbling 
 of the Englishman when alone with Maurice. 
 
 During the day they hunted or took long rides 
 into the interior of the duchy. Both women pos- 
 sessed a fine skill in the saddle. In the evenings 
 there were tourneys at chess, games and music. 
 
 Each night Fitzgerald learned a little more about 
 chess and a little less about woman. The countess, 
 airy and delicate as a verse of Voiture's, bent all 
 her powers (and these were not inconsiderable) 
 toward the subjugation of Maurice. She laughed, 
 she sang, she fascinated. She had the ability to 
 amuse hour after hour. She offered vague prom- 
 ises with her eyes, and refused them with her lips. 
 Maurice, who was never impregnable under the 
 ' fire of feminine artillery, was at times half in love 
 with her; but his suspicions, always near the sur- 
 face, saved him.
 
 148 THE PUPPET C II W N 
 
 Sometimes he caught her hand and retained it 
 over long; and once/ when he kissed it, there was 
 no rebuke. Again, when she sang, he would lean 
 so close that she could feel his breath on her 
 cheek, and her fingers would stumble into discords. 
 Often she would suddenly rise from the piano and 
 walk swiftly from the room, through the halls, into 
 the park, where, though he followed, he never could 
 find her. One day she and Madame returned from 
 a walk in the forest, the one with high color and 
 brilliant eyes, the other impassive as ice. Now, 
 all these things did not escape Maurice, but he 
 could not piece them together with any result. 
 
 On the morning of the tenth day the two 
 prisoners came down to breakfast, wondering how 
 much longer this house party was going to last. 
 
 "George! I wish I had a pipe/' said Maurice. 
 
 "So do I," Fitzgerald echoed glumly. "I am 
 tired of cigars and weary of those eternal cigar- 
 ettes. How the deuce are we going to get out of 
 this?" 
 
 "What's your hurry? We're having a good 
 time." 
 
 "That's the trouble. Hang the duchess!" 
 
 "Hang her and welcome. But why do you com- 
 plain to me and not to Madame? Are you afraid 
 of her? Does she possess, then, what is called 
 tamer's magnetism? 0, my lion, if only you would 
 roar a bit more at her and less at me !" 
 
 "I don't know what she possesses; but I do know 
 that I'd give a deal to be out of this." 
 
 "Is the chambermaid idea bothering you?" 
 
 "No, Maurice, it is not the chambermaid. I
 
 THE PUPPET CROWS 1 149 
 
 feel oppressed by something which I can not de- 
 fine." 
 
 "Maybe you are not used to tokay forty years 
 old?" 
 
 "Wine has nothing to do with it." 
 
 He was so serious that Maurice dropped his 
 jesting tone. "By the way/' he said, "do you 
 sleep soundly?" 
 
 "No. Every night I am awakened by fhe noise 
 of a horse entering the court-yard." 
 
 "So am I. Moreover, Madame seems to be 
 troubled with the same sleeplessness. 
 
 "Madame?" 
 
 "Yes. She is so troubled with sleeplessness that 
 nothing will quiet her but the sight of the man 
 who rides the horse: all of which is to say that 
 a courier arrives each night with dispatches from 
 Bleiberg. Now, to tell the truth, the courier does 
 not keep me awake half so much as the thought 
 of who is eating three meals a day at the end of 
 the east corridor on the third floor. But there 
 are Madame and the countess ; we have kept them 
 waiting," 
 
 "Good morning," said Madame, smiling as they 
 came up. " And how have you slept ? " 
 
 "Nothing wakes me but the roll of the drum or 
 thunder," answered Fitzgerald diffidently. 
 
 "I dream of horses," said Maurice carelessly. 
 
 " Bon jour, M. le Capitaine!" cried the countess. 
 Then she added with a light laugh : ' ' Come, let 
 me try you. Portons armes ! Presentons armes! 
 How beautifully you do it ! Par le flanc gauche ! 
 En avant rnarche /'*
 
 150 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 Maurice swung, clicked his heels and, with a 
 covert glance at Madame, led the way into the 
 dining hall, whistling, "Behold the saber of my 
 father!" 
 
 "Ah, I do not see the Colonel," said Maurice; 
 for night and day the old soldier had been with 
 them. 
 
 "He has gone to Brunnstadt," said Madame, 
 "but will return this evening." 
 
 The breakfast was short and merry. Words 
 passed across the table that were as crisp as the 
 toast. Maurice remarked the advent of two liv- 
 eried servants, stolid Germans by the way, who, 
 as he afterward found, did not understand French. 
 
 "So the Colonel has gone to Brunnstadt?" said 
 Maurice; which was a long way of asking why 
 the Colonel had gone to Brunnstadt. 
 
 "Yes," said Madame; "he has gone to consult 
 Madame the -duchess to see what shall be done to 
 you, Monsieur." 
 
 "To be done to me?" ignoring the challenge in 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Yes. You must not forget that you promised 
 me your sword, and I have taken the liberty of 
 presenting it to her Highness." 
 
 "I remember nothing about promising my 
 sword," said Maurice, gazing ceiling- ward. 
 
 "What! There was a mental reservation?" 
 
 "No, Madame. I remember my words only too 
 well. I said that I loved adventure, thoughtless 
 youth that I was, and that I was easy to be 
 found. Which is all true, and part proved, since 
 I am here."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 151 
 
 "Still, the uniform fits you exceedingly well. 
 The hussars hold a high place at court." 
 
 "Madame," replied he pleasantly, "I appreciate 
 the honor, but at present my sword and fealty are 
 sworn to my own country. And besides, I have 
 no desire to take part in the petty squabble be- 
 tween this country and the kingdom." 
 
 The forecast of a storm lay in Madame's gray 
 eyes. 
 
 "Eh? You wish to placate me, Madame?" 
 thought Maurice. 
 
 "He is right, Madame/' interposed the countess. 
 "But away with politics! It spoils all it touches." 
 
 "And away with the duchess, too," put in Fitz- 
 gerald, reaching for a bunch of yellow grapes. 
 "With all due respect to your cause and beliefs, 
 Madame the duchess, your mistress, is a bugbear 
 to me. The very sound of the title arouses in my 
 heart all that is antagonistic." 
 
 "You have not seen her Highness, Monsieur," 
 said Madame, quietly. "Perhaps she is all that 
 is desirable. She is known to be rich, her will is 
 paramount to all others. When she sets her heart 
 on a thing she leaves no stone unturned until she 
 procures it. And, countess, do they not say of her 
 that she possesses something an attribute more 
 dangerous than beauty fascination?" 
 
 "Yes, Madame." 
 
 "Madame the duchess," said Maurice dryly, "has 
 a stanch advocate in you, Madame." 
 
 "It is not unnatural." 
 
 "Be that as it may," said Fitzgerald, "she is 
 enemy."
 
 152 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 "Love your enemies, says the Book," was the in- 
 terposition of the countess, who stole a sly glance 
 at Maurice which he did not see. 
 
 "That would not be difficult in some cases," re- 
 plied the Englishman. 
 
 "Ah, come," thought Maurice, "my friend is be- 
 ginning to pick up his lines." Aloud he said: 
 "Madame, will you confer a favor on me by per- 
 mitting me to inform my superior in Vienna of 
 my whereabouts?" 
 
 "No, Monsieur; prisoners are not allowed to com- 
 municate with the outside world. Are you not 
 enjoying yourself? Is not everything being done 
 for your material comfort? What complaint have 
 you to offer?" 
 
 "A gilded cage is no less a cage." 
 
 "It is but temporary. The duchess has com- 
 manded that you be held until it is her pleasure 
 to come to the chateau. 0, Monsieur, where is your 
 gallantry? Here the countess and I have done so 
 much to amuse you, and you speak of a gilded 
 cage !" 
 
 "Pretty bird! pretty bird!" said Maurice, in a 
 piping voice, "will it have some caraway?" 
 
 Madame laughed. "Well, I hear the grooms 
 leading the horses under the porte cochtfre. Go, 
 then, for the morning ride. I am sorry that I 
 can not accompany you. I have some letters to 
 write." 
 
 Fitzgerald curled his mustache. "I'll forswear 
 the ride myself. I was reading a good book last 
 night ; I'll finish it, and keep Madame company." 
 
 Madame trifled with the toast crumbs. Fitz-
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 153 
 
 gerald's profound dissimulation caused a smile to 
 cross Maurice's lips. 
 
 "Come, countess," said Maurice, gaily; "we'll 
 take the ride together, since Madame has to write 
 and my lord to read." 
 
 "Five minutes until I dress," replied the countess, 
 and she sped away. 
 
 "What a beautiful girl !" said Madame, fondly. 
 "Poor dear ! Her life has not been a bed of roses." 
 
 "No?" said Maurice, while Fitzgerald raised his 
 eyebrows inquiringly. 
 
 "No. She was formerly a maid of honor to her 
 Highness. She made an unhappy marriage." 
 
 "And where is the count?" asked Fitzgerald in 
 surprise. He shot a glance of dismay at Maurice, 
 who, translating it, smiled. 
 
 "He is dead." 
 
 Fitzgerald looked relieved. 
 
 "What a fine thing it is," said Maurice, rising, 
 "to be a man and wed where and how you will !" 
 He withdrew to the main hall to don his cap 
 and spurs. As he stooped to strap the latter, he 
 saw a sheet of paper, crinkled by recent dampness, 
 lying on the floor. He picked it up and read it. 
 
 "The plan you suggest is worthy of you, Madame. 
 The Englishman is fair game, being a common ene- 
 my. Let us gain our ends through the heart, since 
 his purse is impregnable to assaults. But the count- 
 ess ? "Why not the pantry maid, since the other is 
 an American ? They lack discrimination. The king 
 grows weaker every day. Nothing was found in the 
 Englishman's rooms. I fear that the consols are in 
 the safe at the British legation. As usual, a courier 
 will arrive each night. B."
 
 154 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "Why not the pantry rnaid?" Maurice 
 drawled. "That is flippant." He read the mes- 
 sage again. "What plan?" Suddenly he struck 
 his thigh. "By George, so that is it, eh, Madame? 
 So that is why we are so comfortably lodged here? 
 I am in the way, and you bait the hook with a 
 countess! Since the purse will not lead the way, 
 the heart, eh? Certainly I shall tell my lord the 
 Englishman all about his hostess when I return 
 from the ride. Decidedly you are clever. 0, how 
 careless ! Not even in cipher, so that he who reads 
 may run. And who is B. ? Beauvais ! Some- 
 thing told me that this man had a hand in the 
 affair. I remember the look he gave me. A traitor, 
 too. 
 
 "Hang my memory, which seems always to 
 forget what I wish to remember and remember 
 what I wish to forget! Where have I met this 
 man Beauvais before ? Ah, the countess !" He 
 thrust the message into his breast. "Evidently 
 Madame thinks I am worth consideration; uncom- 
 monly pretty bait. Shall I let the play run on, 
 or shall I tell her? Ah! you have two minutes 
 to spare," he said, as she approached. "But you 
 do not need them," throwing a deal of admira- 
 tion into his glance. 
 
 "It does not take me long to dress on occa- 
 sions." 
 
 "A compliment to me?" he said. 
 
 "If you will accept it." 
 
 It was an exhilarating morning, full of forest per- 
 fumes. Through the luize the mountains glittered 
 like huge emeralds and amethysts.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 155 
 
 "What a day!" said the countess, as they gal- 
 loped away. 
 
 "Aye, for plots and war and love I" 
 
 "For plots and war?" demurely. Her cheeks 
 were rosy and her hair as yellow as the silk of 
 corn. 
 
 "Well, then, for love." He shortened his rein. 
 "A propos, have you ever been in love, countess ?* 
 
 "I? What a question!" 
 
 "Have you?" 
 
 "N no ! Let us talk of plots and war," gazing 
 across the valley. 
 
 "No; let us talk of love. I am in love, and 
 one afflicted that way wishes a confidant. I ap- 
 point you mine." 
 
 "Some rosy-cheeked peasant girl?" laughing. 
 
 "Perhaps. Perhaps it's only a a pantry maid," 
 with a sly look from the corner of his eyes. Evi- 
 dently she had not heard. She was still laugh- 
 ing. "I have heard of hermits falling in love 
 with stars, and have laughed. Now I am in the 
 same predicament. I love a star " 
 
 "Operatic? To be sure! Mademoiselle Lenor- 
 mand of the Royal Vienna is in Bleiberg. How 
 she keeps her age !" 
 
 It was Maurice's turn to laugh. 
 
 "And that is why you came to Bleiberg! Ah, 
 these opera singers, had I my way, they should all 
 be aged and homely." 
 
 "Countess, you are pulling the bit too hard," 
 said he. "I noticed yesterday that your horse has 
 a very tender mouth." 
 
 "Thank you." She slacked the rein. "He was
 
 156 THE P U P P E T U It \V X 
 
 going too close to the ditch. You were saying 
 
 " No, it was you who were saying that all 
 actresses should be aged and homely. But it is 
 not Mademoiselle Lenormand, it is not the peas- 
 ant, nor the pantry maid." 
 
 This time she looked up quickly. 
 
 "The woman I love is too far away, so 1 an 
 going to give up thinking of her. Countess, I 
 made a peculiar discovery this morning." 
 
 "A discovery, Monsieur ? What is it ? " 
 
 " Do you see that fork in the road, a mile away? 
 When we reach it and turn I'll tell you what it is. 
 If I told you now it might spoil the ride. What 
 a day, truly! How clear everything is! And the 
 air is like wine." He drew in deep breaths. 
 
 "Let us hurry and reach the fork in the road; 
 my curiosity is stifling me." 
 
 Maurice did not laugh as she expected he would. 
 As she observed the thoughtful frown between his 
 brows, a shiver of dread ran through her. It did 
 not take long to cover the intervening mile. They 
 turned, and the horses fell into a quick step. 
 
 "Now, Monsieur; please!" 
 
 After all ... But he quelled the gentle 
 tremor in his heart. A month ago, had he known 
 her, he might now have told her altogether a dif- 
 ferent story. He could see that she had not an 
 inkling of what was to come (for he had de- 
 termined to tell hor); and he vaguely wondered 
 if he should bring humiliation to the dainty crea- 
 ture. It would b' like nicking a porcelain cup. 
 Her brows were arched inquisitively and her lips 
 puckered . He had had a narrow escape.
 
 THE PUPPET CBOWN 157 
 
 He drew the message from his breast, leanid acrosi 
 and handed it to her. 
 
 "Why, what is this, Monsieur?'"' 
 
 "Read it and see." And he busied himself with 
 the tangled mane of his horse. When they had 
 ridden several yards, he heard her voice. 
 
 "Here, Monsieur." The hand was extended, but 
 the face was averted. 
 
 "Countess, you are too charming a woman to 
 lend yourself to such schemes." 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 "Did you not volunteer to make me fall in love 
 with you to keep me from interfering with 
 Madame's plans?" It was brutal, but he was com- 
 pelled to say it. 
 
 Silence. 
 
 "Did you not?" he persisted. "When one writes 
 such messages as these, one should use an intri- 
 cate cipher. Had I been other than a prisoner, what 
 I have done would not be the act of a gentleman. 
 But I am a prisoner; I must defend myself. To 
 rob a man through his love ! And such a man ! 
 He is a very infant in the hands of a woman. He 
 has been a soldier all his life. All women to him 
 are little less than angels; he knows nothing of 
 their treachery, their deceit, their false smiles. It 
 will be an easy victory, or rather it would have 
 been, for I shall do my best to prevent it. Madame 
 is not unknown to me; I have been waiting 
 to see what meant this peculiar house party. 
 
 "Perhaps I am now too late. Madame dis- 
 trusts me. I dare say she has her reasons. She 
 went to you. You were to occupy me. I was
 
 158 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 young, I liked the society of women, I was gay and 
 careless. She has decked me out as one would 
 deck a monkey (and doubtless she calls me one 
 behind my back), and has offered me a sword to 
 play with. 
 
 "In America, when a man puts a sword in his 
 hand, it is to kill somebody. Here aye, all over 
 the continent, for that matter swords are baubles 
 for young nobles, used to slash each other in love 
 affairs. I respect and admire you; had I not done 
 so, I should not have spoken. Countess, be frank 
 with me, as frank as I have been with you*, have 
 I not guessed rightly?" 
 
 "Yes, Monsieur," her head bowed and her cheeks 
 white. "Yes, yes! it was a miserable game. But 
 I love Madame; I would sacrifice my pride and 
 my heart for her, if need be." 
 
 "I can believe that." 
 
 "And believe me when I say that the moment 
 I saw you, I knew that my conduct was going to 
 be detestable. But I had given my promise. A 
 woman has but little to offer to her country; I 
 have offered my pride, and I am a proud woman, 
 Monsieur. I am ashamed. I am glad that you 
 spoke, for it was becoming unbearable to throw 
 myself at a man whose heart I knew intuitively 
 to be elsewhere." She raised her e}*es, which were 
 filled with a strange luster. "Will you forgive me, 
 Monsieur ?" 
 
 "With all my heart. For now I know that we 
 shall be friends. You will be relieved of an odi- 
 ous part; for you are too handsome not to have 
 in keeping some other heart besides your own."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 159 
 
 He then began gaily to describe some of his 
 humorous adventures, and continued in this vein 
 till they arrived once more at the chateau. Some- 
 times the countess laughed, but he could see that 
 her sprightliness was gone. When they came 
 under the porte cochere he sprang from his horse 
 and assisted her to dismount; and he did not re- 
 linquish her hand till he had given it a friendly 
 pressure. She stood motionless on the steps, cen- 
 tered a look on him which he failed to interpret, 
 then ran swiftly into the hall, thence to her room, 
 the door of which she bolted. 
 
 "It would not be difficult," he mused, commun- 
 ing with the thought which had come to him. "It 
 would be something real, and not a chimera." 
 
 He turned over the horses to the grooms, and 
 went in search of Fitzgerald to inform him of his 
 discovery; but the Englishman was nowhere to be 
 found. Neither was Madame. Being thirsty, he 
 proceeded to the dining hall. Fadette, the maid, 
 was laying the silver. 
 
 "Ah, the 'pantry maid/" he thought. "Good 
 day, Fadette." 
 
 "Does Monsieur wish for something?" 
 
 "A glass of water. Thanks!" 
 
 She retreated and kept her eyes lowered. 
 
 "Fadette, you are charming. Has any one ever 
 told you that?" 
 
 "0, Monsieur!" blushing. 
 
 "Have they?" lessening the distance between 
 them. 
 
 ''Sometimes," faintly. She could not withstand
 
 160 THE PUPPET CBOWN 
 
 his glance, so she retired a few more steps, only 
 to find herself up with the wall. 
 
 With a laugh he sprang forward and caught her 
 face between his hands and imprinted a kiss on 
 her left cheek. Suddenly she wrenched herself 
 loose, uttered a frightened cry and fled down the 
 pantryway. 
 
 "What's the matter with the girl?" he muttered 
 aloud. "I wanted to ask her some questions." 
 
 "Ask them of me, Monsieur," said a voice from 
 the doorway. 
 
 Maurice wheeled. It was Madame, hut her face 
 expressed nothing. He saw that he had been 
 caught. The humor of the situation got the better 
 of him, and he laughed. Madame ignored this 
 unseemly hilarity. 
 
 "Monsieur, is this the way you return my kind- 
 ness ?" 
 
 "Permit me to apologize. As to your kindness, 
 I have just discovered that it is of a most danger- 
 ous quality." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean that I could not kiss Madame the countess 
 with the same sense of security as I could the 
 pantry maid," bowing. 
 
 Just now Madame's face expressed a good deal. 
 "Of what are you talking?" advancing a step. 
 
 "I had in mind what our friend, Colonel Beau- 
 vais, remarked in his recent dispatch: I know no 
 discrimination. The fact is, I do. I found the 
 dispatch on the floor this morning. Allow me to 
 return it to you. I have kept silent, Madame, be- 
 cause I did not know how to act."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWX 161 
 
 "You have dared ?" her lips pressed and her 
 eyes thundrous. 
 
 "To read it? Aye. I am a prisoner; it was in 
 self-defense. Madame, you do me great honor. A 
 countess! What consideration to the indiscrim- 
 inate! Au revoir, then, till luncheon;" and he 
 left the room, whistling 
 
 Void le sabre de mon p&re!
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE DENOUEMENT 
 
 At no time during the afternoon did Maurice 
 find the opportunity to speak privately to Fitz- 
 gerald. Madame hovered about, chatting, smiling 
 and humming snatches of song. She seemed to 
 have formed a sudden attachment for Maurice; 
 that is to say, she could not bear to lose sight of 
 him, not for the briefest moment. 
 
 He swallowed his chagrin, for he could but 
 confess that it was sugar-coated. Madame had at 
 last considered his case, and had labeled him dan- 
 gerous. Somehow a man always likes to be prop- 
 erly valued. It re-establishes his good opinion of 
 himself. 
 
 Well, well; however affectionate Madame might 
 be, she could scarcely carry it beyond the threshold 
 of his chamber, and he was determined to retire at 
 an early hour. But he had many things to learn. 
 
 Fitzgerald was abandoned to the countess, who 
 had still much color to regain. From time to time 
 the Englishman looked over his shoulder to see 
 what was going on between Madame and his 
 friend, and so missed half of what the countess said. 
 162
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 163 
 
 "Come/ 7 thought Maurice, "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 cogitat- 
 ing. 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 window- 
 less 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 discov- 
 ered that I know too much. I suspected from the 
 first; the picture merely confirmed my suspicions.
 
 164 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 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 con- 
 vinced 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 du- 
 plicity. 
 
 "Monsieur," she said, "do you lack wealth?" 
 
 "Yes, I lack it; but that is not to say that I de- 
 sire it." 
 
 "Perhaps it is honors you desire?"
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 165 
 
 "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 hoot 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 con- 
 science 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 accu- 
 rately that you know you will have but to ask, 
 be it his honor or his life. A far finer thing itj
 
 166 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 would be for you to win your crown at the point 
 of the sword. There would be a little glory in it 
 then. But even then, the world would laugh at 
 you. For you would be waging war against a 
 lonely woman, a paralytic king, a prelate who is 
 a man of peace. What resistance could these three 
 offer? 
 
 "But to gain your ends by treachery and de- 
 ceit, to rob a man of his brains and heart, laugh- 
 ing the while in your sleeve; to break his life and 
 make him curse all women, from Eve to you and 
 the mother who bore him ! Ah, Madame, let me 
 plead with you. Give him his liberty. Let him 
 go back and complete the task imposed on him. 
 Do not break his life, for life is more than a 
 crown; do not compel him to sully his honor, for 
 honor is more than life. 
 
 <r 5Tour cause is just, I will admit, but do not 
 tarnish it by such detestable means. J Tis true 
 that a crown to me signifies nothing, but life and 
 honor are common to us both. With all his strength 
 and courage, my friend is helpless. All his life 
 he has been without the society of women. If he 
 should love you God help him ! His love would 
 be without calculation, without reason, blind and 
 furious. Madame, do not destroy him." 
 
 Sometimes, in the passing, we are stopped by 
 the sound of a voice. It is not the words it utters, 
 nor the range nor tone. It is something indefin- 
 able, and, though we can not analyze it, we are 
 willing to follow wherever it leads. Such a voice 
 Maurice possessed, though he was totally ignorant 
 of its power. But Madame, as she listened, felt
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 167 
 
 its magic influence, and for a moment the spell 
 rendered her mute. 
 
 "Monsieur, you have missed your vocation; you 
 plead well, indeed. Unfortunately, I can not hear; 
 my ears are of wax. No, no ! I have nourished 
 these projects too long; they are a part of me. 
 Laughed at, you say? Have I not been laughed 
 at from one end of the continent to the other?" 
 passionately. "It is my turn now, and woe to 
 those who have dared to laugh. I shall sweep all 
 obstacles away; nothing shall stop me. Mine the 
 crown is, and mine it shall be. I am a woman, 
 and I wished to avoid bloodshed. But not even 
 that shall stay me ; not even love !" Her bosom 
 heaved, her hands were clenched, and her gray eyes 
 flashed like troubled waters in the sunlight. 
 
 "Madame, if you love him " 
 
 "Well?" proudly. 
 
 "No, I am wrong. If you loved him you would 
 prize above all else this honor of which you in- 
 tend to rob him." 
 
 "I brought you here not to discuss whether I 
 am right or wrong. Look about you." 
 
 Maurice was somewhat troubled to discover sev- 
 eral troopers lounging about just out of earshot. 
 They were so arranged as to prevent egress from 
 the park. He looked thoughtfully at the wall. It 
 was eight feet in height. 
 
 Madame saw the look, and said, "Corporal !" 
 
 There was a noise on the other side of the wall, 
 and presently a head bobbed up. 
 
 "Madame?" inquired the head. 
 
 "Nothing- I wished to know if you were at
 
 168 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 your post." She turned to Maurice, who was puz- 
 zled to know what all this was preamble to. 
 "Monsieur Carewe, I never forget details. I had 
 an idea that when I submitted my proposals to 
 you, you might be tempted to break your parole." 
 
 Maurice gnawed his lip. "Proceed, Madame." 
 
 "There are only two. If you do not promise 
 here and now in no way to interfere with my 
 plans, these troopers will convey you to Brunn- 
 stadt, where you will be kept in confinement until 
 the succession to the throne is decided one way or 
 the other. The other proposal is, if you promise 
 and I have faith in your word the situation will 
 continue the same as at present. Choose, Mon- 
 sieur. Which is it to be ?" 
 
 The devil gleamed in his eyes. He remained 
 silent. 
 
 "Well! Well!" impatiently. 
 
 "I accept the alternative," with bad grace. "If 
 I made a dash " 
 
 "You would be shot; those were my orders." 
 
 "And if I went to prison " 
 
 "You would miss what you call the comic opera, 
 but which to me is all there is in life. You say 
 that I have read your friend well. That is true. 
 Do you think that it is easy for me to lessen my- 
 self in my own eyes? No woman lives who is 
 prouder than I. Kemember, you are not to hint 
 at what I propose to do, nor who I am. See ! It 
 is all because you read something which was not 
 intended for your eyes. Be my friend, or be my 
 enemy, it is a matter of indifference to me. You 
 have only yourself to blame. Had you gone
 
 169 
 
 about your business and not intruded where you 
 were not wanted, neither you nor your friend 
 would be here. No interference from you, Mon- 
 sieur; that is the understanding." She raised 
 her hand and made a sign, and the troopers took 
 themselves off. "Now you may go to the 
 countess, if you wish; though I dare say that she 
 will not find you in the best of tempers." 
 "I dare say she won't/' said Maurice. 
 
 Fitzgerald sat by a window in the music room. 
 He had resurrected from no one knew where a 
 clay with a broken stem. There was a thought- 
 ful cast to his countenance, and he puffed away, 
 blissfully unconscious of, or indifferent to, the 
 close proximity of the velvet curtains. A thrifty 
 housewife, could she have seen the smoke rise and 
 curl and lose itself in the folds above, would have 
 experienced the ecstasy of anxiety and perturba- 
 tion. But there was no thrifty housewife at the 
 Red Chateau, nothing but dreams of conquest and 
 revenge. 
 
 Twilight was gathering about, soft-footed and 
 shadowful. Long reaches of violet and vermilion 
 clouds pressed thickly on the western line of hills. 
 The mists began to rise, changing from opal to 
 sapphire. The fantastic melodies of wandering 
 gypsy songs went throbbing through the room; rol- 
 licking gavots, Hungarian dances, low and slum- 
 brous nocturnes. As the music grew sadder and 
 dreamier, the smoker moved uneasily. 
 
 Somehow, it gripped his heart; and the long 
 years of loneliness returned and overwhelmed him.
 
 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 They marshaled past, thirteen in all; and there 
 were glimpses of deserts, snowcapped mountains, 
 men moving in the blur of smoke, long watches in 
 the night. Thirteen years in God-forsaken outposts, 
 with never a sight of a woman's face, the sound 
 of her voice, the swish of her gown, nor a touch 
 of the spell which radiates from her presence. 
 
 He had never made friends. Others had come 
 up to him and passed him, and had gone to the 
 cities, leaving him to bear the brunt of the cold, 
 the heat, the watchfulness. He had made his bed; 
 he was too much his father's son to whine because 
 it was hard. Often he used to think how a few 
 words, from a pride humbled, would have removed 
 the barrier. But the words never came, nor was 
 the pride ever humbled. 
 
 Out of all the thirteen years he could re- 
 member only six months of pleasure. He had 
 been transferred temporarily to Calcutta, where 
 his Colonel, who had received secret information 
 concerning him, had treated him like a gentle- 
 man, and had employed him as regimental inter- 
 preter, for he spoke French and German and a 
 smattering of Indian tongues. During his lonely 
 hours he had studied, for he knew that some day 
 he would be called upon to administer a vast 
 fortune. . . . He laid the pipe on the sill, 
 rested his elbows beside it, and dropped his chin 
 in his hands. What a fool he had been to waste 
 the best years of his life ! His father would have 
 opened to him a boundless career; he would have 
 seen the world under the guidance of a master 
 hand. And here he was to-day, the possessor of
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 171 
 
 millions, a beggar in friends, no niche to fill, a 
 wanderer from place to place. 
 
 The old pile in England, he never wished to see 
 ii again; the memories which it would arouse would 
 be too bitter. . . . The shade of Beethoven 
 touched him as it passed; Mozart, Mendelssohn, 
 Chopin. But he was thinking only of his loneli- 
 ness, and the marvelous touch of the hands which 
 evoked the great spirits was lost upon him. 
 
 Maurice was seated in one of the gloomy cor- 
 ners. He had still much good humor to recover. 
 He pulled at his lips, and wondered from time 
 to time what was going on in Fitzgerald's head. 
 Poor devil ! he thought ; could he resist this 
 woman whose accomplishments were so varied that 
 at one moment she could overthrow a throne and 
 at the next play Phyllis to some strolling Cory- 
 don? Since he himself, who knew her, could en- 
 tertain for her nothing but admiration, what hope 
 was there for the Englishman ? What a woman ! 
 She savored of three hundred years off. To plan 
 by herself, to arrange the minutest detail, and 
 above all to wait patiently! Patience has never 
 been the attribute of a woman of power; Madame 
 possessed both patience and power. 
 
 The countess was seated in another dark corner. 
 Suddenly she arose and said, in a voice blended 
 with great trouble and impatience: "For pity's 
 sake, Madame, cease those dirges! Play something 
 lively; I am sad." 
 
 The music stopped, but presently began again. 
 Maurice leaned forward. Madame was playing 
 Chopin's polonaise. He laughed silently. He was
 
 172 
 
 in Madame's thoughts. It struck him, however, 
 that the notes had a defiant ring. 
 
 "Lights!" called Madame, rising from the stool. 
 
 Immediately a servant entered with candles and 
 retired. Maurice, when his eyes had grown ac- 
 customed to the lights, scanned the three faces. 
 Madame's was radiant. Fitzgerald's was a mix- 
 ture a comical mixture of content and enjoy- 
 ment, but the countess's was as colorless as the 
 wax in the candlesticks. He asked himself what 
 other task she had to perform that she should 
 take so long to recover her roses. Had the knowl- 
 edge of her recent humiliation been too much for 
 her? 
 
 She was speaking to him. "Monsieur, will you 
 walk with me in the park? I am faint." 
 
 "Are you ill, countess?" asked Madame, coming 
 up and placing her hand under the soft round 
 chin of the other and striving to read her eyes. 
 
 "Not so ill, Madame, that a breath of fresh air 
 will not revive me." When they had gained the 
 park, the countess said to Maurice: "Monsieur, I 
 have brought you here to tell you something. I 
 fear that your friend is lost, for you can do noth- 
 ing." 
 
 "Not even if I break my word?" he asked. 
 
 "It would do no good." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "It is too late," lowly. "I have been Madame's 
 understudy too long not to read. Forgive me. I 
 was to keep you apart; I have done so. The evil 
 can not now be repaired. Your hope is that 
 Madame has not fully considered his pride."
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 173 
 
 "Has she any regard for him?" 
 
 "Sentiment? love?" She uttered a short, in- 
 credulous laugh. "Madame has brain, not heart. 
 Could a woman with a heart plan as she plans?" 
 
 "Well, let us not talk of plots and plans; let 
 us talk of" 
 
 "Monsieur, do not he unkind. I have asked 
 your forgiveness. Let us not talk; let us be silent 
 and listen to the night;" and she leaned over the 
 terrace balustrade. 
 
 Maurice floated. As he leaned beside her a 
 strand of perfumed hair blew across his nostrils. 
 . . . The princess was at best a dream. It 
 was not likely that he ever would speak to her 
 ngain. The princess was a poem, unlettered and 
 u n rhymed. But here, close to him, was a bit of 
 beautiful material prose. The hair again blew 
 out toward him and he moved his lips. She 
 heard the vague sound and lifted her head. 
 
 Far away came the call of the sentry; a horse 
 whinneyed in the stables. There was in the air 
 the odor of an approaching storm.
 
 CHAPTEK XII 
 
 WHOM THE GODS DESTROY AND A FEW OTHERS 
 
 Some time passed before Fitzgerald became 
 aware of Maurice's departure. When he saw that 
 he and Madame were alone, he said nothing, but 
 pulled all the quicker at his clay. He wondered 
 at the desire which suddenly manifested itself. 
 Fly? Why should he fly? The beat of his pulse 
 answered him. . . . What a fine thing it was 
 to feel the presence of a woman a woman 
 like this! What a fine thing always to experi- 
 ence the content derived from her nearness ! 
 
 He looked into his heart ; there was no animosity ; 
 there was nothing at all but a sense of grateful- 
 ness. In the dreary picture of his life there was 
 now an illumined corner. He had ceased to 
 blame her; she was doing for her country what 
 he, did necessity so will, would do for his. And 
 after all, he could not war against a woman a 
 woman like this. His innate chivalry was too 
 deep-rooted. 
 
 How soft her voice was ! The color of her hair 
 and eyes followed him night and day. Once he 
 had been on the verge of sounding Maurice in re- 
 gard to Madame, Maurice was so learned in fem- 
 174
 
 THE PUPPET CROWX 175 
 
 ininities; but this would have been an acknowl- 
 edgment of his ignorance, and pride closed his 
 mouth. It was all impossible, but then, why should 
 he return to his loneliness without attempting to 
 find some one to share it with him? The king 
 was safe; his duty was as good as done; his con- 
 science was at ease in that direction. He needed 
 not love, he thought, so much as sympathy. . . . 
 Sympathy. He turned over the word in his mind 
 as a gem merchant turns over in his hand a precious 
 jewel. Sympathy; it was the key to all he desired 
 woman's sympathy. There was nothing but ash 
 in the bowl of his pipe, but he continued to puff. 
 
 Madame was seated at the piano again, idly 
 thrumming soft minor chords. She was waiting 
 for him to speak; she wanted to test his voice, 
 to know and measure its emotion. At times she 
 turned her head and shot a sly glance at him as 
 he sat there musing. There was a wrinkle of con- 
 tempt and amusement lurking at the corners of 
 her eyes. Had Maurice been there he would have 
 seen it. Fitzgerald might have gazed into those 
 eyes until doomsday, and never have seen else than 
 their gray fathoms. Minute after minute passed, 
 still he did not speak; and Madame was forced to 
 break the monotony. She was not sure that the 
 countess could hold Maurice very long. 
 
 "Of what are you thinking, Monsieur?" she 
 asked, in a soft key. 
 
 He started, looked up and laid the pipe on the 
 sill. "Frankly, I was thinking that nothing can 
 be gained by keeping us prisoners here." He told 
 the lie rather diffidently.
 
 176 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "Not even forgiveness?" The lids of the gray 
 eyes drooped and the music ceased. 
 
 "Forgiveness? 0, there is nothing to forgive 
 you; it is only your mistress I can not forgive. 
 On the contrary, there is much to thank you for." 
 
 "Still, whatever I do or have done is merel" 
 in accordance with her Highness's wishes." 
 
 He moved uneasily. "It is her will, not yours." 
 
 "Yes; the heart of Madame Amerbach is supine 
 to the brain of Madame the duchess." She rose 
 and moved silently to the window and peered out. 
 He thought her to be star-gazing; but she was not. 
 She was endeavoring to see where Maurice and the 
 countess were. 
 
 "Madame, shall I tell you a secret?" 
 
 "A secret? Tell me," sitting in the chair next 
 to his. 
 
 "This has been the pleasantest week I have 
 known in thirteen years." 
 
 "Then you forgive me!" Madame was not only 
 mistress of music but of tones. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 And then, out of the fullness of his lonely 
 heart, he told her all about his life, its empti- 
 ness, its deserts, its longings. Each sentence was 
 a knife placed in her hands; and as she contem- 
 plated his honest face which could conceal noth- 
 ing, his earnest eyes which could hide nothing, 
 Madame was conscious of a vague distrust of her- 
 self. If only he had offered to fight, she thought. 
 But he had not; instead, he was giving to her all 
 his weapons of defense.
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 177 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur, you do wrong to forgive me!" 
 impulsively. 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 "Why should you be friendly to me when I rep- 
 resent all that is antagonistic to you?" 
 
 "To me you represent only a beautiful woman." 
 
 "Ah; you have been taking lessons of your 
 friend." * 
 
 "He is a good teacher. He is one of those men 
 whom I admire. Women have never mastered 
 him. He knows so much about them." 
 
 "Yes ?" a flicker in her eyes. 
 
 "Beneath all his banter there is a brave heart. 
 He is a rare man who, having brain and heart to 
 guide, follows the heart." He picked up the pipe 
 and began to play a tattoo on the sill. "As for 
 me, I know nothing of women, save what I have 
 read in books, and save that I have been too long 
 without them." 
 
 "And you have gone all these years without 
 knowing what it is to love?" To a man less 
 guileless, this question would not have been in 
 good taste. 
 
 Fitzgerald was silent; he dared not venture an- 
 other lie. 
 
 "What ! you are silent ? Is there, after all, a 
 woman somewhere in your life?" 
 
 "Yes." He continued to tap the pipe. His 
 gaze wandered to the candles, strayed back to the 
 window, then met hers steadfastly, so steadfastly 
 that she could not resist. She was annoyed. 
 
 "Tell me about her."
 
 178 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 "My vocabulary is too limited. You would 
 laugh at me." 
 
 "I? No; love is sacred." She had boasted to 
 Maurice that she was without conscience; she had 
 only smothered it. "Come; is she beautiful?" 
 
 "Yes." These questions disturbed him. 
 
 "Certainly she must be worthy or you would 
 not love her. She is rich?" 
 
 "That does not matter; I am." He was wish- 
 ing that Maurice would hurry back; the desire to 
 fly was returning. 
 
 "And she rejected you and sent you to the 
 army ?" 
 
 "She has not rejected me, though I dare say 
 she would, had I the presumption to ask her." 
 
 "A faint heart, they say " 
 
 "My heart is not faint; it is my tongue." He 
 rose and wandered about the room. Her breath 
 was like orris, and went to his head like wine. 
 
 "Monsieur," she said, "is it possible that you 
 have succumbed to the charms of Madame the 
 countess ?" 
 
 He laughed. "One may admire exquisite bric- 
 a-brac without loving it." 
 
 "Bric-a-brac ! Poor Elsa !" and Madame laughed. 
 "If it were the countess I could aid you." 
 
 "Love is not merchandise, to traffic with." 
 
 Madame's cheeks grew warm. Sometimes the 
 trick of fence is beaten down by a tyro's stroke. 
 
 "Eh, bien, since it is not the countess " 
 
 He came toward her so swiftly that instinc- 
 tively she rose and moved to the opposite side of 
 her chair. Something in his face caused her to
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 179 
 
 shiver. She had no time to analyze its meaning, 
 but she knew that the shiver was not unmixed 
 with fear. 
 
 "Madame, in God's name, do not play with 
 me I" he cried. 
 
 "Monsieur, you forget yourself," for the mo- 
 ment forgetting her part. 
 
 "Yes, there is no self in my thoughts since they 
 are all of you ! You know that I love you. Who 
 could resist you? Thirteen years? They are well 
 wasted, in the end to love a woman like you." 
 
 Before she could withdraw her hands from the 
 top of the chair he had seized them. 
 
 "Monsieur, release me." She struggled futilely. 
 
 "I love you." He began to draw her from be- 
 hind the chair. 
 
 "Monsieur, Monsieur !" she cried, genuinely 
 alarmed; "do not forget that you are a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 "I am not a gentleman now; I am a man who 
 loves." 
 
 Madame was now aware that what she had 
 aroused could not be subdued by angry words. 
 
 "Monsieur, you say that you love me; do not 
 degrade me by forcing me into your arms. I am 
 a woman, and weak, and you are hurting me." 
 
 He let go her hands, and they stood there, 
 breathing deeply and quickly. But for her it was 
 a respite. She had been too precipitate. She 
 brought together the subtle forces of her mind. 
 She could gain nothing by force; she must use 
 cunning. To hold him at arm's length, and yet 
 to hold him, was her desire. She had reckoned
 
 180 
 
 on wax; a man stood before her. All at once 
 the flutter of admiration stirred in her heart. 
 She was a soldier's daughter, the daughter of a 
 man who loved strong men. And this man was 
 doubly strong because he was fearless and honest. 
 She read in his eyes that a moment more and 
 he had kissed her, a thing no man save her father 
 had ever done. 
 
 "0, Monsieur," she said lightly, "you soldier- 
 are such forward lovers! You have not even asked 
 me if I love you." He made a move to regain 
 her hands. "No, no !" darting behind the chair. 
 "You must not take my hands; you do not realize 
 how strong you are. I am not sure that my heart 
 responds to yours." 
 
 "Tell me, what must I do?" leaning across the 
 chair. 
 
 "You must have patience. A woman must bf 
 wooed her own way, or not at all. What a whirl- 
 wind j'ou are !" 
 
 "I would to heaven/' with a gesture indicative 
 of despair, "that you had kept me behind bar.- 
 and closed doors." He dropped his hands from 
 the chair and sought the window, leaning his arms 
 against the central frame. 
 
 Madame had fully recovered her composure. 
 She saw her way to the end. 
 
 "It is true," she said, "that I do not love you ; 
 but it is also true that I am not indifferent to 
 yon. What proof have I that you really love mer 
 None, save your declaration; and that is not suffi- 
 cient for a woman such as I am. Shall I place
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 181 
 
 my life in your hands for better or for worse, 
 simply because you say you love me?" 
 
 "My love does not reason, Madame." 
 
 She passed over this stroke. "I do not know 
 you; it is not less than natural for me to doubt 
 you. What proof have I that your declaration of 
 love is not a scheme to while away your captivity 
 at my expense? My heart is not one to be taken 
 by storm. There is only one road to my affec- 
 tions; it is narrow. Other men have made love 
 to me, but they have hesitated to enter upon this 
 self-same road." 
 
 "Love that demands conditions? I have asked 
 none." 
 
 Madame blushed. "A man offers love; a woman 
 confers it." 
 
 "And what is this narrow road called which 
 leads to your affections? Is your heart a citadel?" 
 
 "It is called sacrifice. Those who dwell in my 
 heart, which you call a citadel, enter by that 
 road." 
 
 "Sacrifice?" Fervor lighted his face again. 
 "Do you wish my fortune? It is yours. My life? 
 It is yours. Do you wish me to lead the army of 
 the duchess into Bleiberg? It shall be done. 
 Sacrifice? I have sacrificed the best years of 
 youth for nothing; my life has been made up of 
 sacrifices." 
 
 "Monsieur, if I promised to listen to you here- 
 after, if I promised a heart that has never 
 known the love of man, if I promised lips that 
 have never known the lips of any man save my 
 father " She moved away from the chair, v.-'lhin
 
 182 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 an arm's length of him. "If I promised all these 
 without reservation, would you aid me to give 
 back to the duchess her own?" 
 
 Instantly her arms were pinioned to her sides, 
 and he had drawn her so close that she could feel 
 his heart beat against her own. 
 
 "Have no fear/' he said. The voice was un- 
 familiar to her ears. "I shall not kiss you. Let 
 me look into your eyes, Madame, your eyes, and 
 read the lie which is written there. My fortune 
 and my life are not enough. Keep your love, 
 Madame; I have no wish to purchase it. What! 
 if I surrender my honor it is agreed that you sur- 
 render yours? A love such as mine requires a 
 wife. You would have me break my word to the 
 dead and to the living, and you expect me to be- 
 lieve in your promises ! Faugh !" He pushed hef 
 from him, and resumed his stand by the window. 
 
 The hate of a thousand ancestors surged into 
 her heart, and she would have liked to kill him. 
 Mistress! He had dared. He had dared to speak 
 to her as no other man living or dead had dared. 
 And he lived. All that was tigerish in her soul 
 rose to the surface; only the thought of the glit- 
 tering goal stayed the outburst. She had yet one 
 weapon. A minute went by, still another; silence. 
 A hand was laid tremblingly on his arm. 
 
 "Forgive me! I was wrong. Love me, love 
 me, if you must. Keep your honor; love me with, 
 out conditions. I " She stumbled into the 
 chair, covered her eyes and fell to weeping. 
 
 Fitzgerald, dumfounded and dismayed, looked 
 down at the beautiful head. He could fight angry
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 183 
 
 words, tempests of wrath but tears, a woman's 
 ^ears, the tears of the woman he loved! 
 
 "Madame/' he said gently, "do you love me?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Madame, for God's sake, do not weep! Do 
 you love me? If you love me if you love me " 
 
 She sprang to her feet. Once again she experi- 
 enced that shiver; again her conscience stirred. 
 
 "I do not know," she said. "But this I may 
 say: your honor, which you hold above the price 
 of a woman's love, will be the cause of bloodshed. 
 Mothers and wives and sisters will execrate your 
 name, brave men will be sacrificed needlessly. 
 What are the Osians to you? They are strangers. 
 You will do for them, and uselessly, what you 
 refuse to do for the woman you profess to love. 
 I abhor bloodshed. Your honor is the offspring 
 of pride and egotism. Can you not see the in- 
 evitable? War will be declared. You can N not 
 help Leopold; but you can save him the degrada- 
 tion of being expelled from his throne by force 
 of arms. The army of the duchess is true to its 
 humblest sword. Can you say that for the army 
 of the king? Would you witness the devastation 
 oi' a beautiful city, by flame and sword? 
 
 "Monsieur, Austria is with us, and she will abide 
 with us whichever way we move. Austria, Monsieur, 
 which is Leopold's sponsor. And this Leopold, is 
 he a man to sit upon a throne? Is he a king in 
 any sense of the word? Would a king submit to 
 such ignominy as he submits to without striking a 
 blow? Would he permit his ministers to over- 
 ride him? Would he permit his army to mur-
 
 184 THE PUPPET CEOWX 
 
 mur, his agents to plunder, his people to laugh 
 at him, if he possessed one kingly attribute? Xo, 
 no! If you were king, would you allow these 
 things? No! You would silence all murmurs, 
 you would disgorge your agents, you would throttle 
 those who dared to laugh. 
 
 "Put yourself in the duchess's place. All these 
 beautiful lands are hers by right of succession ; 
 is she wrong to desire them? What does she wish 
 to accomplish ? She wishes to join the kingdom and 
 the duchy, and to make a great kingdom, as it 
 formerly was. Do you know why Leopold was 
 seated upon the throne ? 
 
 "Some day the confederation will decide to divide 
 all these lands into tidbits, and there will be no 
 one to oppose them. Madame the duchess wishes 
 to be strong enough to prevent it. And you, Mon- 
 sieur, are the grain of sand which stops all this, 
 you and your pride. Not even a woman's love 
 There, I have said it ! not even a woman's love 
 will move your sense of justice. Go! leave me. 
 Since my love is nothing, since the sacrifice I make 
 is useless, go ; you are free !" The tears which 
 came into her eyes this time were genuine; tears 
 of chagrin, vexation, and of a third sensation 
 which still remained a mystery to her. 
 
 To him, as she spoke, with her wonderful eyes 
 flashing, a rich color suffusing her cheeks and 
 throat and temples, the dim candle light breaking 
 against the ruddy hair; honor or pride, whichever 
 it was, was well worth the losing. He was a man ; 
 it is only the pope who is said to be infallible. 
 His honor could not save the king. All she had
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 185 
 
 said was true. If he held to his word there would 
 be war and bloodshed. 
 
 On the other hand, if he surrendered, less harm 
 would befall the king, and the loss of his honor 
 was it honor? would be well recompensed for 
 the remainder of his days by the love of this 
 woman. His long years of loneliness came back; 
 he wavered. He glanced first at her, then at the 
 door; one represented all that was desirable in the 
 world, the other more loneliness, coupled with un- 
 utterable regret. Still he wavered, and finally he 
 fell. 
 
 "Madame, will you be my wife?" 
 
 "Yes." And it seemed to her that the word 
 came to her lips by no volition of hers. As she 
 had grown red but a moment gone, she now grew 
 correspondingly pale, and her limbs shook. She 
 had irrevocably committed herself. "No, no!" as 
 she saw him start forward with outstretched arms, 
 "not my lips till I am your wife! Not my lips; 
 only my hands!" 
 
 He covered them with kisses. 
 
 "Hash!" as she stepped back. 
 
 It was time. Maurice and the countess entered 
 the room. Maurice glanced from Madame to Fitz- 
 gerald and back to Madame; he frowned. The 
 Englishman, who had never before had cause to 
 dissemble, caught up his pipe and fumbled it. 
 This act merely discovered his embarrassment to 
 the keen eyes of his friend. He had forgotten all 
 about Maurice. What would he say? Maurice 
 was something like a conscience to him, and his 
 heart grew troubled.
 
 186 THE PUPPET C E W 27 
 
 "Madame," Maurice whispered to the countess, 
 "I have lost all faith in you; you have kept me 
 too long under the stars." 
 
 "Confidences?" said Madame, with a swift in- 
 quiring glance at the countess. 
 
 "0, no," said Maurice. "I simply complained 
 that Madame the countess had kept me too long 
 under the stars. But here is Colonel Mollendorf, 
 freshly returned from Brunnstadt to inform you 
 that the army is fully prepared for any emergency. 
 Is not that true, Colonel?" as he beheld that in- 
 dividual standing in the doorway. 
 
 "Yes ; but how the deuce your pardon, ladies ! 
 did you find that out?" demanded the Colonel. 
 
 "I guessed it," was the answer. "But there will 
 be no need of an army now. Come, John, the 
 Colonel, who is no relative of the king's minister 
 of police, has not the trick of concealing his im- 
 patience. He has something important to say to 
 Madame, and we are in the way. Come along, 
 ^Eneas, follow your faithful Achates; Thalia has 
 a rehearsal." 
 
 Fitzgerald thrust his pipe into a pocket. "Good 
 night, Madame," he said diffidently; "and you, 
 countess." 
 
 "Good night, Colonel," sang out Maurice over 
 his shoulder, and together the pair climbed the 
 stairs. 
 
 Fitzgerald was at a loss how to begin, for 
 something told him that Maurice would demand 
 an explanation, though the affair was none of his 
 concern. He filled his pipe, fired it and tramped 
 about the room. Sometimes he picked up the end
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 187 
 
 of a window curtain and felt of it; sometimes he 
 posed before one of the landscape oils. 
 
 "You have something on your mind," said 
 Maurice, pulling off his hussar jacket and kicking 
 it across the room. 
 
 "Madame has promised to be my wife." 
 
 "And the conditions ?" curtly. 
 
 Fitzgerald pondered over the other's lack of 
 surprise. "What would you do if you loved a 
 woman and she promised to be your wife?" 
 
 "I'd marry her," sitting down at the table. 
 
 "What would you do in my place, and Madame 
 had promised to marry you?" puffing quickly. 
 
 "I'd marry her," answered Maurice, banging his 
 fist on the table, "even if all the kings and queens 
 of Europe rose up against me. I would marry 
 her, if I had to bind her hands and feet and carry 
 her to the altar and force the priest at the point 
 of a pistol, which, in all probability, is what you 
 will have to do." 
 
 "I love her," sullenly. 
 
 "Do you know who she is?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Would it make any difference?" 
 
 "No. Who is she?" 
 
 "She is a woman without conscience; she is a 
 woman who, to gain her miserable ends, will stop 
 neither at falsehood, deceit nor bloodshed. Do 
 you want me to tell you more? She is 
 
 "Maurice, tell me nothing which will cause me 
 ro regret your friendship. I love her; she haf 
 promised to be my wife." 
 
 "She will ruin you."
 
 188 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "She has already done that," laconically. 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me " 
 
 "Yes! For the promise of her love I am dis- 
 honored. For the privilege of kissing her lips I 
 have sold my honor. To call her mine, I would 
 go through hell. God! do you know what it is 
 to be lonely, to starve in God-forsaken lands, to 
 dream of women, to long for them?" 
 
 "And the poor paralytic king?" 
 
 "What is he to me?" 
 
 "And your father?" 
 
 "What are my dead father's wishes? Maurice, 
 I am mad !" 
 
 "You are a very sick man," Maurice replied 
 crossly. "What's to become of all these vows : 
 
 "You are wasting your breath ! Do you re- 
 member what Eochefoucauld said of Madame de 
 Longueville? 'To win her heart, to delight her 
 beautiful eyes, I have taken up arms against the 
 king; I would have done the same against the 
 gods !' Is she not worth it all ?" with a gesture 
 of his arms which sent the live coals of his pipe 
 comet-like across the intervening space. "Is she 
 not worth it all?" 
 
 "Who? Madame de Longueville? I thought 
 she was dead these two hundred years !" 
 
 "Damn it, Maurice !" 
 
 "I will, if you say so. The situation is equal 
 to a good deal of plain, honest damning." Maurice 
 banged his fist again. "John, sit down and listen 
 to me. I'll not sit still and see you made a fool. 
 Promises? This woman will keep none. When 
 she has wrung you dry she will fling you aside.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 189 
 
 At this moment she is probably laughing behind 
 your back. You were brought here for this pur- 
 pose. Threats and bribes were without effect. 
 Love might accomplish what the other two had 
 failed to do. You know little of the ways of the 
 world. Do you know that this house party is scan- 
 dalous, for all its innocence? Do you know that 
 Madame's name would be a byword were it known 
 that we have been here more than two weeks, alone 
 with two women? Who but a woman that feels 
 herself above convention would dare offer this 
 affront to society? Do you know why Madame the 
 countess came? Company for Madame? No; she 
 was to play make love to me to keep me out of 
 the way. Ass that 1 was, I never suspected till 
 too late ! Madame's name is not Sylvia Amerbach ; 
 it is ' 
 
 The door opened unceremoniously and in walked 
 the Colonel. 
 
 "Your voices are rather high, gentlemen," he 
 said calmly, and sat down in an easy chair.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 BEING OF COMPLICATIONS NOT RECKONED ON 
 
 Maurice leaped to his feet, a menace in his 
 eyes. The Colonel crossed his legs, rested his 
 hands on the hilt of his saber, and smiled. 
 
 "I could not resist the desire to have a friendly 
 chat with you." 
 
 "You have come cursed inopportune," snarled 
 Maurice. "What do you want?" 
 
 "I want to give you the countersigns, so that 
 when you start for Bleiberg to-morrow morning 
 you'll have no trouble." 
 
 "Bleiberg !" -exclaimed Maurice. 
 
 "Bleiberg. Madame desires me to say to you 
 that you are to start for that city in the morning, 
 to fetch those slips of parchment which have 
 caused us all these years of worry. Ah, my 
 friend," to Fitzgerald, "Madame would be cheap 
 at twenty millions! You sly dog! And I never 
 suspected it." 
 
 Fitzgerald sent him a scowl. "'You are damned 
 impertinent, sir." 
 
 "Impertinent?" The Colonel uncrossed his legs 
 and brought his knees together. "Madame has 
 been under my care since she was -? child, Moi>- 
 190
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 191 
 
 sieur; I have a fatherly interest in her. At any 
 rate, I am glad that the affair is at an end. It 
 was very noble in you. If I had had my way, 
 though, it would have been war, pure and simple. 
 I left the duchess in Brunnstadt this morning; she 
 will be delighted to attend the wedding." 
 
 "She will attend it," said Maurice, grimly; "but 
 I would not lay odds on her delight. Colonel, the 
 devil take me if I go to Bleiberg on any such er- 
 rand." He went to the window seat. 
 
 The Colonel rose and followed him. "Pardon 
 me," he said to Fitzgerald, who did not feel at all 
 complimented by Madame's haste; "a few words 
 in Monsieur Carewe's ear. He will go to Blei- 
 berg; he will be glad to go." He bent towards 
 Maurice. "Go to Bleiberg, my son. A word to 
 him about Madame, and off you go to Brunnstadt. 
 Will you be of any use there? I think not. The 
 little countess would cry out her pretty eyes if she 
 heard that you were languishing in the city prison 
 at Brunnstadt, where only the lowest criminals 
 are confined. Submit gracefully, that is to say, 
 like a soldier against whom the fortunes of war 
 have gone. Go to Bleiberg." 
 
 "I'll go. I give up." It was not the threat 
 which brought him to this decision. It was a 
 vision of a madonna-like face. "I'll go, John. 
 Where are the certificates?" 
 
 "Between the mattresses and the slats of my 
 lit-d you will find a gun in a case. The certifi- 
 cates are in the barrels." His countenance did not 
 express any particular happiness; the lines about 
 his mouth were sharper than usual.
 
 192 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 "The devil!" cried the Colonel; "if only I had 
 known that!" He laughed.. "Well, I'll leave you. 
 Six o'clock what's this?" as he stooped and picked 
 up Maurice's cast-off hussar jacket. 
 
 "I was about to use it as a door mat," said 
 Maurice, who was in a nasty humor. That Fitz- 
 gerald had surrendered did not irritate him half 
 so much as the thought that he was the real pup- 
 pet. His hands were tied, he could not act, and 
 he was one that loved his share in games. 
 
 The Colonel reddened under his tan. "No; I'll 
 not lose my temper, though this is cause enough. 
 Curse me, but you lack courtesy. This is my uni- 
 form, and whatever it may be to you it is sacred 
 to me. You were not forced into it; you were not 
 compelled to wear it. What would you do if a 
 man wore your uniform and flung it around in 
 this manner?" 
 
 "I'd knock him down," Maurice admitted. "I 
 apologize, Colonel; it was not manly. But you 
 must make allowances; my good nature has suf- 
 fered a severe strain. I'll get into my own clothes 
 to-morrow if you will have a servant sew on some 
 buttons and mend the collar. By the way, who 
 is eating three meals a day in the east corridor on 
 the third floor?" 
 
 Their glances fenced. The Colonel rubbed his 
 mustache. 
 
 "I like you," he said; "hang me if I don't. But 
 as well as I like you, I would not give a denier 
 for your life if you were found in that self-same 
 corridor. The sentinel has orders to shoot; but 
 don't let that disturb you; you will know
 
 THE PUPPET GROWN' 1!' 5 
 
 sooner or later. It is better to wait than be shot. 
 A horse will be saddled at six. You will find it 
 in the court. The countersigns are Weixel and 
 Arnoldt. Good luck to you." 
 
 "The same to you," rejoined Maurice, "only 
 worse." 
 
 The Colonel's departure was followed by a period 
 of temporary speechlessness. Maurice smoked sev- 
 eral "Khedives/' while Fitzgerald emptied two or 
 three pipe-bowls. 
 
 "You seem to be in bad odor, Maurice," the 
 latter ventured. 
 
 "In more ways than one. Where, in heaven's 
 name, did you resurrect that pipe?" 
 
 "In the stables. It isn't the pipe, it's the to- 
 bacco. I had to break up some cigars." 
 
 Then came another period in the conversa- 
 tion. It occurred to both that something yawned 
 between them a kind of abyss. Out of this abyss 
 one saw his guilt arise. ... A woman stood 
 at his side. He had an accomplice. He had thrown 
 the die, and he would stand stubbornly to it. His 
 pride built yet another wall around him, impreg- 
 nable either to protests or to sneers. He loved 
 that was recompense enough. A man will forgive 
 himself of grave sins when these are debtors to 
 his love. 
 
 As for the other, he beheld a trust betrayed, 
 and he was powerless to prevent it. Besides, his 
 self-love smarted, chagrin made eyes at him; and, 
 more than all else, he recognized his own share in 
 the Englishman's fall from grace. It had been 
 innocent mischief on his part, true, but neverthe-
 
 194 THE PUPPET CRjWN 
 
 less he stood culpable. He had no business to talk 
 to a woman he did not kLjw. '.^he more he 
 studied the aspects of the situation the more 
 whimsical it grew. He was the prime cause of a 
 king losing his throne, of a man losing his honor, 
 of a princess becoming an outcast 
 
 "Your bride-elect/' he said, "seems somewhat 
 over-hasty. "Well, I'm off to bed." 
 
 "Maurice, can you blame me?" 
 
 "No, John; whom the gods destroy they first 
 make mad. You will come to your senses when 
 it is too late." 
 
 "For God's sake, Maurice, who is she?" 
 
 "What will you do if she breaks her promise?" 
 adroitly evading the question. 
 
 "What shall I do?" He emptied the ashes 
 from his pipe, and rose; all that was aggres- 
 sive came into his face. "I will bind her hands 
 and feet and carry her to the altar, and shoot the 
 priest that refuses to marry us. Maurice, rest 
 easy; no woman lives who will make a fool of me, 
 and laugh." 
 
 "That's comfort;" and Maurice turned in. 
 
 This night it was the Englishman who sat up 
 till the morning hours. Sylvia Amerbach. . . . 
 A fear possessed him. If it should be, he thought; 
 
 if it should be, what then? 
 
 **** 
 
 Midnight in Madame's boudoir; no light save 
 that which streamed rosily from the coals in the 
 grate. The countess sat with her slippered feet 
 upon the fender. She held in her hand a screen,
 
 195 
 
 and if any thoughts marked her face, they re- 
 mained in blurred obscurity. 
 
 "Heu!" said Madame from the opposite side; 
 "it is all over. It was detestable. I, to suffer 
 this humiliation! Do you know what I have done? 
 I have promised to be his wife ! His wife, I ! Is 
 it not droll ?" There was a surprising absence of 
 mirth in the low laugh which followed. 
 
 "1 trust Madame will find it droll." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "And I, Madame?" 
 
 "Yes ; did you not bring the clown to your feet ?" 
 
 "No, Madame." 
 
 "How ? You did not have the joy denied me 
 of laughing in his face ?" 
 
 "No, Madame." With each answer the voice 
 <^rew lower. 
 
 "Since when have I been Madame to you?" 
 
 "Since to-day." 
 
 Madame reached out a hand and pressed down 
 the screen. "Elsa, what is it?" 
 
 "What is what, Madame?" 
 
 "This strange mood of yours." 
 
 Silence. 
 
 "You were gay enough this morning. Tell 
 me." 
 
 "There is nothing to tell, Madame, save that 
 my sacrifices are at an end. I have nothing left." 
 
 "What ! You forsake me when the end is 
 won ?" in astonishment. 
 
 "I did not say that I should desert you; I said 
 that 1 had no more sacrifices to make." The 
 :ountess rose. "For your sake, Madame, bocause
 
 196 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 you have always been kind to me, and because it 
 is impossible not to love you, I have degraded 
 myself. I have pretended to love a man who saw 
 through the artifice and told me so, to save me 
 further shame. Madame, it is all execrable! 
 
 "And you will use this love which you have 
 gained this first love of a man who has known 
 no other and will know no other while he lives ! 
 to bring about his ruin ? This other, at whose head 
 you threw me beware of him. He is light-hearted 
 and gay, perhaps. You call him ' a clown ; he is 
 cunning and brave; and unless you judge him 
 at his true value, your fabric of schemes will fall 
 ere it reaches its culmination. Could even you 
 trick him with words? No. You were compelled 
 to use force. Is he not handsome, Madame?" with 
 a feverish gaiety. "Is there a gentleman at your 
 court who is a more perfect cavalier? Why, he 
 blushes like a woman! Is there in your court " 
 But her sentence broke, and she could not go on. 
 
 "Elsa, are you mad?" 
 
 "Yes, Madame, yes; they call it a species of 
 madness." Then, with a sudden gust of wrath: 
 "Why did you not leave me in peace? You have 
 destroyed me ! 0, the shame of it !" and she fled 
 into her own room. 
 
 Madame sat motionless. This, among other 
 things, she had not reckoned on. 
 
 Only the troopers and the servants slept in peace 
 that night. 
 
 Maurice was up betimes next morning. The 
 hills and valleys lay under a mantle of sparkling 
 rime, and the very air, keen of edge and whistling,
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 197 
 
 glistened in the sunlight. The iron shoes of the 
 horses beat sharply on the stone flooring of the court 
 yard. Maurice examined his riding furniture; 
 pulled at the saddle, tugged at the rein buckles, 
 lifted the leather flaps and tried the stirrup straps. 
 It was not that he doubted the ability of the 
 groom; it was because this particular care was sec- 
 ond nature to him. 
 
 Fitzgerald watched him, and meditated. Some 
 of his thoughts were not pleasant. His eyes were 
 heavy. At times he would lift his shoulders and 
 permit half a smile to flicker over his lips; a 
 certain thought caused this. The Colonel sat 
 astride a broad-chested cavalry horse, spotless 
 white. He was going to accompany Maurice to 
 the frontier. He had imbibed the exhilarating 
 tonic of the morning, and his spirits ran high. 
 At length Maurice leaped into the saddle, caught 
 the stirrups well, and signaled to the Colonel that 
 he was ready. 
 
 "You understand, Maurice?" Fitzgerald asked. 
 
 "Yes, John; all the world loves a lover. Be- 
 sides, it is a glorious morning for a ride. Up, 
 portcullis, down drawbridge !" waving his hand to 
 the Colonel. 
 
 And away they went through the gateway, into 
 the frosted road. Maurice felt the spirit of some 
 medieval ancestor creep into his veins and he 
 longed for an hour of the feudal days, to rescue 
 a princess from some dungeon-keep and to harry 
 an over-lord. After all, she was a wonderful 
 woman, and Fitzgerald was only a man. To give
 
 198 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 up all for the love of woman is the only sacrifice 
 a man can make. 
 
 "En avant!" cried the Colonel. "A fine day, a 
 fine day for the house of Auersperg I" 
 
 "And a devilish bad one for the houses of Fitz- 
 gerald and Carewe. Woman's ambition, coupled 
 with her deceit, is the root of all evil; money is 
 simply an invention of man to protect himself 
 from her encroachments. Eve was ambitious and 
 deceitful; all women are her daughters. When 
 the pages of history grow dull " 
 
 "Time puts a maggot in my lady's brain," sup- 
 plemented the Colonel. "It is like a row of dom- 
 inoes. The power behind the throne, the woman 
 behind the power; an impulse moves the woman, 
 and lo ! how they clatter down. But without 
 woman, history would be poor reading. The 
 greatest battles in the world, could we but see be- 
 hind, were fought for women. Men are but foot- 
 notes, and unfortunately history is made up of foot- 
 notes. But it is a fine thing to be a footnote; 
 that is my ambition. 
 
 "Ah, if you but knew what a pleasure it is for 
 an old man like me to have a finger in the game 
 time plays! To meddle with affairs, directly or 
 indirectly! Kingdoms are but judy shows, kings 
 and queens but puppets; but we who pull the 
 strings Ah, that is it! To play a game of chess 
 with crowns!" 
 
 "There are exceptions; Madame seems to hold 
 the strings in this instance." 
 
 "Madame follows my advice in all she does." 
 
 Maurice opened his eyes at this statement.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 199 
 
 "Would you believe an old man like me could 
 lay such a train? All this was my idea. It was 
 difficult to get Madame to agree with my views. 
 War? I am not afraid of it; I am suspicious of 
 it. One day your friend returned a personal letter 
 of Madame's having written across it, 'I laugh at 
 you.' It was very foolish. No man laughs at 
 Madame more than once. She will, one day, re- 
 turn this letter to him. A crown, a fine revenge, 
 in one fell swoop/' 
 
 "She will ruin him utterly?" 
 
 "Utterly." 
 
 "Have you any idea what sort of man my 
 friend is?" 
 
 "He lacks the polish of a man of affairs, and 
 he surrenders too easily." 
 
 "He will never surrender Madame." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "You remember his father; he will prove his 
 father's son, every inch of him. 0, my Colonel, 
 the curtain has only risen. One fine morning your 
 duchy will wake up without a duchess." 
 
 "What do you imply an abduction?" The 
 Colonel laughed. 
 
 "That is my secret." 
 
 "And the pretty countess?" banteringly. 
 
 "It was rather bad taste in Madame* It was 
 putting love and patriotism to questionable pur- 
 poses. I am a gentleman." 
 
 "It was out of consideration for you; Madame 
 was not quite sure about you. But you are right; 
 all of it has rather a dark shade. You may rob 
 a man of his valuables and give them back; a
 
 200 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 broken word is not to be mended. Why did you 
 keep the hiding place so secret? I could have 
 got those consols, and all this would have been 
 avoided." 
 
 "How should I know where they were? It was 
 none of my affair." 
 
 "We are trusting you; I might have gone my- 
 self. You will return with the treasure. Why 
 have I not asked your word? Curiosity will bring 
 you back; curiosity. Besides this, you have an 
 idea that with your presence about, a flaw in the 
 glass may be found. Yes, you will be back. His- 
 tory is to be made; when you are old you will 
 glance at the page and say: 'Look there; rather 
 a pretty bit, eh? Well, I helped to make it; in- 
 deed, had it not been for me and my curiosity it 
 would not have been made at all.' Above all 
 things, do not stop to talk to veiled women." 
 
 There was a chuckling sound. "I say, your 
 Englishman is clever now and then. In the gun 
 barrels! Who would have looked for them there? 
 But why did he come himself? Why did he not 
 trust to his bankers? Why did he not turn over 
 the affair to his representative, the British minis- 
 ter? There were a hundred ways of averting the 
 catastrophe. Why did he not use a little fore- 
 thought when he knew how anxious we were for 
 his distinguished person ?" 
 
 "Why does the moon rise at night and the sun 
 at dawn? I am no Cumaean Sybil. Perhaps 
 it is the impulse which moves the woman behind 
 the power behind the throne; they call it fate.
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 201 
 
 Had I been in his place I dare say I should have 
 followed his footsteps." 
 
 Not long after they arrived at the frontier where 
 they were to separate, to meet again under condi- 
 tions disagreeable to both. The Colonel gave him 
 additional instructions. 
 
 "Go; return as quickly as possible." 
 
 "Never fear; I should not like to miss the finale 
 to this opera bouffe." 
 
 "Kail on, my son; call it by any name you 
 please, only do not interrupt the prompter;" and 
 with this the Colonel waved him an adieu. 
 
 Maurice began the journey through the moun- 
 tain pass, thinking and planning and scheming. 
 However he looked at the situation, the end was 
 the same: the Osians were doomed. If he him- 
 self played false and retained the certificates 
 until too late to be of benefit to the duchess, 
 war would follow; and the kingdom would 
 be soundly beaten. . . . Would Prince Fred- 
 erick still hold to his agreement and marry her 
 Royal Highness, however ill the fortunes of war 
 fared? There was a swift current of blood to his 
 heart. The .Voiture-verse of a countess faded 
 away. . . . Supposing Prince Frederick with- 
 drew his claims ? Some day her Highness would be 
 free; free, without title or money or shelter. It 
 was a wild dream. Was there not, when all was 
 said, a faint hope for his own affairs in the fall 
 of Fitzgerald? 
 
 She was lonely, friendless, personally known to 
 few. Still, she would be an Osian princess for all 
 her misfortunes. But an Osian princess was not
 
 202 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 so great that love might not possess her. Without 
 royalty she would be only a woman. What 
 would Austria do; what would Austria say? If 
 Austria had placed Leopold on the throne, cer- 
 tainly it was to shut out the house of Auersperg. 
 And who was this man Beauvais, who 
 served one houee openly and another under the 
 rose? Where had he met him before, and why 
 did the thought of him cause unrest? To rescue 
 her somehow, to win her love, to see the glory of 
 the world light the heavens in her eyes ! If the 
 dream was mad, it was no less pleasant. 
 
 He was a commoner; he had nothing in the 
 world but his brain and his arm. Fitzgerald, now, 
 possessed a famous title and an ancient name. 
 These kings and princes hereabout could boast of 
 but little more than he; and there were millions 
 to back him. He could dream of princesses and 
 still be sane. Maurice did not envy the English- 
 man's riches, but he coveted his right of way. 
 
 How often had he indulged in vain but pleasant 
 dreams! Even in the old days he was always suc- 
 coring some proud beauty in distress. Sometimes 
 it was at sea, sometimes in railroad wrecks, some- 
 times in the heart of flames; but he was ever 
 there, like a guardian angel. It was never the 
 same heroine, but that did not matter; she was 
 always beautiful and rich, high placed and lov- 
 able, and he never failed to brush aside all ob- 
 stacles that beset the path to the church door. 
 He had dreamed of paladins, and here at last was 
 his long-sought opportunity but he could do 
 nothing! He laughed. How many such romances
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 203 
 
 lay beneath the banter and jest of those bald bach- 
 elor diplomat friends of his? Had fate reserved 
 him for one of these? 
 
 It was noon when he entered the city of Blei- 
 berg. He went directly to his hotel, where a bath 
 and a change of clothes took the stiffness from 
 his limbs. He was in no great hurry to go to the 
 Grand Hotel; there was plenty of time. Happily 
 there was no mail for him; he was not needed 
 in Vienna. 
 
 At two o'clock he set out for the lower 
 town. On the way he picked up odd ends of 
 news. The king was rapidly sinking; he had suf- 
 fered another stroke, and was now without voice. 
 There was unusual activity in the barracks. The 
 students of the university were committing mild 
 depredations, such as building bonfires, holding 
 flambeau processions, and breaking windows which 
 contained the photographs of Prince Frederick of 
 Carnavia, who, strangely enough, was still wrapt 
 in obscurity. When Maurice entered the Grand 
 Hotel he looked casually among the porters, but the 
 round-faced one was missing. He approached the 
 desk. The proprietor did not recognize him. 
 
 "No, my friend," said Maurice, affably, as a vis- 
 itors' book was pushed forward, "I am not going 
 to sign. Instead, I wish to ask a favor. A week 
 ago a party of the king's troopers met up-stairs." 
 
 The proprietor showed signs of returning mem- 
 ory, together with a strange agitation. 
 
 "There was a slight disturbance," went on 
 Maurice, still using the affable tone. "Herr ah 
 Hamilton, I believe "
 
 204 
 
 The proprietor grew limp and yellow. "I I do 
 not know where he is." 
 
 "I do," replied Maurice. "Don't you recognize 
 me? Have I changed so since I came here to 
 doctor a sprained ankle?" 
 
 "You? Before God, Herr, I was helpless; I 
 had nothing to do with it !" terrified at the pecu- 
 liar smile of the victim. 
 
 "The key to this gentleman's room," was the 
 demand. 
 
 i(T ?? 
 
 "The key, and be quick about it." 
 The key came forth. "You will say nothing, 
 Herr; it would ruin my business. It was a police 
 affair." 
 
 "Has any one been in this room since?" 
 "No, Herr; the key has been in my pocket." 
 "Where is the porter who brought me here?" 
 "He was not a porter; lie was with the police." 
 Maurice passed up the stairs. He found the 
 room in disorder, but a disorder rather familiar to 
 his eyes. He had been the cause of most of it. 
 Here was where he broke the baron's arm and 
 thumped three others on the head. It had been a 
 good fight. Here was a hole in the wall where 
 one of the empty revolvers had gone missing the 
 Colonel's head by an inch. 
 
 There was a smudge on the carpet made by the 
 falling candles. He saw Fitzgerald's pipe and 
 picked it up. No; the chamber maid had not 
 yet been there. He went over to the bed, stared 
 at it and shrugged. He raised the mattress. 
 There was the gun case. He drew it forth and
 
 THE PUPPET CBOWN 205 
 
 took out the gun, not, however, without a twist of 
 his nerves. 
 
 Four millions of crowns, a woman's love, the fall 
 of one dynasty and the rise of another, all wadded 
 in those innocent looking gun barrels ! He hesi- 
 tated for a space, then unlocked the breech and 
 held the tubes toward the window. There was 
 nothing in the barrels, nothing but the golden sun- 
 light, which glinted along the polished steel.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 QUI M'AIME, AIME MON CHIEN 
 
 On making this discovery Maurice was inclined 
 to declaim in that vigorous vocabulary which is 
 taboo. He had been tricked. He was no longer 
 needed at the Red Chateau. Four millions in a 
 gun barrel; hoax was written all over the face of 
 it, and yet he had been as unsuspicious as a High- 
 land gillie. Madame had tricked him; the 
 countess had tricked him, the Colonel and Fitz- 
 gerald. 
 
 That Madame had tricked him created no sur- 
 prise; what irritated him most was the convic- 
 tion that Fitzgerald was laughing in his sleeve, 
 and that he had misjudged the Englishman's 
 capacity for dissimulation. Very well. He threw 
 the gun on the bed; he took Fitzgerald's pipe from 
 his pocket and cast it after the gun, and with a 
 gesture which placed all the contents of the room 
 under the ban of his anathema, he strode out into 
 the corridor, thence to the office. 
 
 Here the message to Madame from Beauvais 
 
 flashed back. The Colonel of the royal cuirassiers 
 
 had lied; he had found the certificates. But still 
 
 there was a cloud of mystery; to what use could 
 
 206
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 207 
 
 Beauvais put them? He threw the key to the 
 landlord. 
 
 "You lied to me when you said that no one had 
 entered that room," he said. 
 
 "0, Herr, I told you that no one but the police 
 had been in the room since your departure. They 
 made a search the next morning. Herr Hamilton 
 was suspected of being a spy of the duchy's. I 
 could not interfere with the police." 
 
 Maurice saw that there was nothing to be got 
 from the landlord, who was as much in the dark 
 as he. He passed into the street and walked with- 
 out any particular end in view. 0, he would re- 
 turn to the Red Chateau, if only to deliver him- 
 self of the picturesque and opinionated address on 
 Madame. Once he saw his reflection in a window 
 glass, and he stopped and muttered at it. 
 
 "Eli, bien, as Madame herself says, we develop 
 with crises, and certainly there is one not far dis- 
 tant. I never could write what I wish to say to 
 Madame; I'll go back to-morrow morning." 
 
 Situated between the university and the Grand 
 Hotel on the left hand side of the Konigstrasse, 
 east, stood an historical relic of the days when Aus 
 tria, together with the small independent states, 
 strove to shake off the Napoleonic yoke. In those 
 days students formed secret societies; societies full 
 of strange ritual, which pushed devotion to fanati- 
 cism, which stopped at nothing, not even assassina- 
 tion. To exterminate the French, to regain their 
 ancestral privileges, to rescue their country from 
 its prostrate humiliation, many sacrificed their lives 
 and their fortunes.
 
 208 THE -UPPLT v, R W N 
 
 Napoleon found no means of reaching these 
 pairiots, for they could not be purchased. This 
 Convinced Napoleon of their earnestness, for 
 he could buy kings and princes. The students 
 were invisible, implacable, and many a brilliant 
 officer of the imperial guard disappeared, never to 
 return. 
 
 This historic relic of the Konigstrasse had 
 been the headquarters of one of the branches 
 of these numerous societies; and the students still 
 held to those ancient traditions. But men and 
 epochs pass swiftly; only the inanimate remain. 
 This temple of patriotism is simply an inn to-day, 
 owned by one Stiller, and is designated by those 
 who patronize it as "Old Stiiler's." It is the gather- 
 ing place of the students. It consists of a hall and 
 a garden, the one facing the street, the other 
 walled in at the rear. 
 
 The hall is made of common stone, bald and 
 unadorned save by four dingy windows and a tar- 
 nished sign, "Garten," which hangs obliquely over 
 the entrance. At the curb stands a post with 
 three lamps pendant ; but these are never lit because 
 Old Stiller can keep neither wicks nor glass be- 
 yond the reach of canes. 
 
 Old Stiller was well versed in the peculiarities of 
 students. In America they paint statues ; in Austria 
 they create darkness. On warm, clear nights the 
 students rioted in the garden; when it rained, 
 chairs and tables were carried into the hall, which 
 contained a small stage and a square gallery. 
 Never a night passed without its animated scene.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 209 
 
 iiere it was that the evils of monarchical systems 
 were discussed, the army service, the lack of proper 
 amusement, the restrictions at the stage entrance 
 lo the opera; here it was that they concocted their 
 exploits, fought their duels, and planned means 
 cf outwitting Old Stiiler's slate. 
 
 Stiller was a good general; he could keep the 
 students in order, watch his assistants draw beer, 
 the Rhine wine, and the scum (dregs of the cask> 
 muddy and strong), and eye the accumulating ac- 
 counts on the slate. This slate was wiped out 
 once the month; that is to say, when remittances 
 came from home. The night following remit- 
 tances was a glorious one both to Stiller and the 
 students. There were new scars, new subjects foi 
 debate, and Stiller got rid of some of his prime 
 tokayer. The politics of the students was social- 
 ism, which is to say they were always dissatisfied 
 Tourists seldom repeated their visits to Stiiler's. 
 There was too much spilling of beer in laps, dump- 
 ing of pipe ash into uncovered steins, and knock- 
 ing off of stiff hats. 
 
 It was in front of Old Stiiler's that Maurice 
 came to a pause. He had heard of the place and 
 the praise of its Hofbrau and Munich beers. He 
 entered. He found the interior dark and gloomy, 
 though outside the sun shone brilliantly. He or- 
 dered a stein of Hofbriiu, and carried it into the 
 main hall, which was just off the bar-room. It 
 was much lighter here, < hough the hall had the 
 tawdry appearance of a theater in the day-time; 
 and the motes swam thickly in the beams of sun-
 
 210 THE PUPPET C R W X 
 
 shine which entered through the half-closed shut- 
 ters. It was only at night that Stiiler's was pre- 
 sentable. 
 
 Scarcely a dozen men sat at the tables. In 
 one corner Maurice saw what appeared to be a mar, 
 asleep on his arm?, which were extended the width 
 of the table. It was the cosiest corner in the hall, 
 and Maurice decided to establish himself at the 
 other side of the table, despite the present incum- 
 bent. Noiselessly he crossed the floor and sat 
 down. The light was at his back, leaving his face 
 in the shadow, but shone squarely on the sleeper's 
 head. 
 
 "I do not envy his headache when he wakes up," 
 thought Maurice. He had detected the vinous odor 
 of the sleeper's breath. "These headaches, while 
 they last, are bad things. I know: I've had 'em. 
 I wonder," lifting the stein and draining it, "who 
 the duffer was who said that getting drunk was 
 fun? His name has slipped my memor}'; no mat- 
 ter." He set down the stein and banged the lid. 
 
 The sleeper stirred. "Rich," he murmured; 
 "rich, rich ! I'm rich ! A hundred thousand 
 crowns !" 
 
 "My friend, I'm not in the position to dispute 
 with you on that subject," said Maurice, smiling. 
 He rapped the stein again. 
 
 The sleeper raised his head and stared stupidly 
 
 "Kich, aye, rich !" He was still in half a dream. 
 "Rich, I say!" 
 
 "Hang it, I'm not arguing on that," Maurice 
 laughed. 
 
 The other swung upright at this, his round, oily
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 211 
 
 face sodden, his black eyes blinking. He threw 
 off the stupor when he saw that it was a man and 
 not the shadow of one. 
 
 "Who the devil are you?" he asked, thickly. 
 
 Maurice seldom forgot a face. He recognized 
 this one. "Oho !" he said, "so it's you, eh ? I did 
 not expect to meet you. Happily I had you in 
 mind. You are not employed at present as a por- 
 ter at the Grand Hotel? So it is you, my mes- 
 senger !" 
 
 "Who are you and what are you talking about? 
 I don't know you." 
 
 "Wait a moment and I'll refresh your memory." 
 Maurice theatrically thrust a cigar between his 
 teeth and struck a match. As the flame illumined 
 his features the questioner started. "So you do 
 not recognize me, eh ? You haven't the slightest 
 remembrance of Herr Hamilton and his sprained 
 ankle, eh? Sit down or I'll break your head with 
 this stein, you police spy!" dropping the banter- 
 ing tone. 
 
 The other sat down, but he whistled sharply; 
 and Maurice saw the dozen or so rise from the 
 other tables and come hurriedly in his direction. 
 He pushed back his chair and rose, his teeth firmly 
 embedded in the cigar, and waited. 
 
 "What's the trouble, Kopf?" demanded the new- 
 comers. 
 
 "This fellow accuses me of being a spy and 
 threatens to break my head." 
 
 "0! break your head, is it? Let us see. Come, 
 brothers; out with this fellow." 
 
 l
 
 212 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 Maurice saw that they were about to charge him, 
 and his hand went to his hip pocket and rested 
 on the butt of the revolver which the Colonel had 
 given him. "Ger;Menien," he said, quietly, "I have 
 no discussion with you. I have a pistol in my 
 pocket, and I'm rather handy with it. I desire to 
 talk to this man, and talk to him I will. Eeturu 
 to your tables; the affair doesn't concern you/' 
 
 The intended assault did not materialize. They 
 scowled, bat retired a few paces. They saw the 
 movement toward the hip pocket, and they noted 
 the foreign twist of the tongue. Moreover, they 
 did not like the angle of the speakers jaws. They 
 shuffled, looked questioningly at one another, and, 
 as if all of a single mind, went slowly back to 
 their chairs. Kopf grew pale. Indeed, his pallor 
 was out of all proportion with the affair, which 
 Maurice took to be no more than a comedy. 
 
 "Brothers," he said, huskily, "he will not dare." 
 
 "Don't you doubt it for a moment," interrupted 
 Maurice, taking out the revolver and fondling it. 
 "Any interference will mean one or more cases for 
 the hospital. Come, I'm not the police," to Kopf. 
 "I am not going to hurt you. I wish only to ask 
 you a few questions, which is my right after what 
 has passed between us. We'll go to my hotel, 
 where we shan't be disturbed." 
 
 Together they left the hall. As they passed 
 through the bar-room Stiller looked questions, but 
 refrained from asking them. Maurice put away 
 the revolver. As they went out into the street h^ 
 Kopf's arm within his own. 
 
 "What do you want?" asked Johann, savagely.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 213 
 
 "First. What is your place in this affair ?" 
 
 "What affair?" 
 
 "The abduction." 
 
 "I had nothing to do with it, Herr, on my honor. 
 I was only a porter, and I supposed my errand was 
 in good faith." 
 
 "How about the gentle push you gave me when 
 the door opened? My friend, I'm no infant. Lies 
 will do you no good. I know everything, and 
 wish only to verify. You are a police spy, in the 
 employ of the duchess." Maurice felt the arm 
 draw, and bore down on it. 
 
 "If I was, do you suppose I'd fool my time on 
 this side of the Thalians?" Johann shrugged. 
 
 "I'm not sure about that," said Maurice, puffing 
 into Johamrs face. "When cabinet ministers play 
 spy, small fry like you will not cavil at the occu- 
 pation. And you are not in their pay?" Johann 
 glared. "I want to know," Maurice went on, "what 
 you know; what you know of Colonel Beauvais, 
 his plans, his messengers to the duchy, what is 
 taking place underneath." 
 
 Johann's face cleared and a cunning light 
 brightened his eyes. "If that is all you are after, 
 I'll tell you. I'm a spy no longer; they have no 
 more use for me, despite their promises. I'll play 
 them off for quits." 
 
 "If that's all," repeated Maurice, "what did you 
 think I wanted to ask you?" 
 
 Johann bit his lip. "I'm wanted badly by the 
 chancellor, curse you, if you must know. I thought 
 he might be behind you." 
 
 "Don't worry about that," said Maurice, to whom
 
 214 THE PUPPET C K (MY X 
 
 this declaration seemed plausible. "We'll talk as 
 we go along." 
 
 And Johann loosened his tongue and poured 
 into Maurice's ear a tale which, being half a 
 truth, had all the semblance of straightforward- 
 ness. What he played for was time; to gain time 
 and to lull his captor's suspicions. Maurice was 
 not familiar with the lower town; Johann was. A 
 few yards ahead there was an alley he knew, and 
 once in it he could laugh at all pursuit. It 
 might be added that if Maurice knew but little of 
 the lower town, he knew still less about Johann. 
 
 Suddenly, in the midst of his narrative, Johann 
 put his leg stiffly between his enemy's and gave a 
 mighty jerk with his arm, with the result that 
 Maurice, wholly unprepared, went sprawling to 
 the pavement. He was on his feet in an instant, 
 but Johann was free and flying up the alley. 
 Maurice gave chase, but uselessly. Johann had 
 disappeared. The alley was a cul de sac, but was 
 lined with doors; and these Maurice hammered to 
 ease his conscience. No one answered. Deeply 
 disgusted with his lack of caution, Maurice re- 
 gained the street, where he brushed the dust from 
 his knees. 
 
 "I'll take it out of his hide the next time we 
 meet. He wasn't worth the trouble, anyway." 
 
 A sybil might have whispered in his ear that a 
 very large fish had escaped his net, but Maurice 
 continued, conscious of nothing save chagrin 
 and a bruised knee. He resumed the piecing to- 
 gether of events, or rather he attempted to; very 
 few pieces could be brought together. If Beauvais
 
 THE PUPPET CEOWN 215 
 
 had the certificates, what was his object in lying 
 to Madame? What benefit would accrue to 
 him? After all, it was a labyrinth of paths which 
 always brought him up to the beginning. He 
 drooped his shoulders dejectedly. There was noth- 
 ing left for him to do but return to the Eed 
 Chateau and inform them of the fruitlessness of 
 his errand. He would start on the morrow. To- 
 night he wanted once more to hear the band, to 
 wander about the park, to row around the rear of 
 the archbishop's garden. 
 
 "A fine thing to be born in purple sometimes," 
 he mused. "I never knew till now the inconveni- 
 ences of the common mold." 
 
 He tramped on, building chateaux en Espagne. 
 That they tumbled down did not matter; he could 
 rebuild in the space of a second, and each castle 
 an improvement on its predecessor. 
 
 His attention was suddenly drawn away from 
 this idle but pleasant pursuit. In a side street 
 he saw twenty or thirty students surging back 
 and forth, laughing and shouting and jostling. 
 In the center of this swaying mass canes rose and 
 fell. It was a fight, and as he loved a fight, Mau- 
 rice pressed his hat firmly on his head and veered 
 into the side street. He looked around guiltily, 
 and was thankful that no feminine eyes were near 
 to offer him their reproaches. He jostled among 
 the outer circle, but could see nothing. He stooped. 
 Something white flashed this way and that, accom- 
 panied by the sound of low growls. A dog fight 
 was his first impression, and he was on the point 
 of leaving, for, while he secretly enjoyed the sight
 
 216 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 of two physically perfect men waging battle, he 
 had not the heart to see two brutes pitted against 
 each other, goaded on by brutes of a lower castn. 
 But even as he turned the crowd opened and closed, 
 and the brief picture was enough for him. 
 
 Her dog! And the students were beating it be- 
 cause they knew it to be defenseless. Her dog! 
 toothless and old, who could not hold when 
 his jaws closed on an arm or leg, but who, with 
 that indomitable courage of his race, fought on 
 and on, hopelessly and stubbornly. 
 
 He was covered with blood, one of his legs was 
 hurt, but still the spirit burned. It was cowardly. 
 Maurice's jaws assumed a particularly ferocious 
 angle. Her dog ! Rage choked him. With an oath 
 he flung this student aside and that, fought his way 
 to the center. A burly student, armed with a stout 
 cane, was the principal aggressor. 
 
 Maurice doubled his fist and swung a blow 
 which had one hundred and sixty pounds behind 
 it, and it landed squarely on the cheek of 
 the student, who dropped face downward and lay 
 stilL This onslaught was so sudden and unex- 
 pected that the students were confounded. But 
 Maurice, whose plans crystallized in moments like 
 these, picked up the cane and laid it about him. 
 
 The students swore and yelled and stumbled over 
 one another in their wild efforts to dodge the vin- 
 dictive cane. Maurice cleared a wide circle. The 
 dog, half blinded by his blood and not fully com- 
 prehending this new phase in the tide of events, 
 lunged at Maurice, who nimbly eluded him. 
 Finally the opportunity came. He flung the cane
 
 TILE PUPPET CROWN 217 
 
 into the yelling pack, with his left arm caught the 
 dog about the middle, and leaped back into the 
 nearest doorway. The muscles of his left arm 
 were sorely tried; the dog considered his part in 
 the fray by no means ended, and he tugged and 
 yelped huskily. With his right hand Maurice 
 sought his revolver, cocked and leveled it. There 
 came a respite. The students had not fully re- 
 covered from their surprise, and the yells sank into 
 murmurs. 
 
 "You curs!" said Maurice, panting. "Shame on 
 you ! and an old dog that can't defend himself ! 
 You knew he had no teeth." 
 
 "God save your Excellency !" laughed a student 
 in the rear, who had not tasted the cane; "you 
 may be sure we knew he had no teeth or we 
 wouldn't have risked our precious calves. Don't let 
 him scare you with the popgun, comrades. At 
 him, my brave ones; he will be more sport than 
 the dog ! Down with the Osians, dogs, followers 
 and all!" 
 
 "Come on, then," said Maurice, whose fighting 
 blood was at heat. "Come on, if you think it 
 isn't over. There are six bullets in this popgun, 
 and I don't give a particular damn where they go. 
 Come on !" 
 
 Whether or not this challenge would have been 
 accepted remains unwritten. There now came on 
 the air the welcome sound of galloping hoofs, and 
 presently two cuirassiers wheeled into the street. 
 What Maurice had left undone with the cane the 
 cuirassiers completed with the flat of their 
 They had had a brush with the
 
 218 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 students the night before, and they went at them 
 as if determined to take both interest and prin- 
 cipal. The students dispersed like leaves in the 
 wind all save one. He rose to his feet, his 
 hands covering his jaw and a dazed expression in 
 his eyes. He saw Maurice with the revolver, the 
 cuirassiers with their sabers, and the remnant of 
 his army flying to cover, and he decided to follow 
 their example. The scene had changed somewhat 
 since he last saw it. He slunk off at a zigzag 
 trot. 
 
 One of the cuirassiers dismounted, his face red 
 from his exertions. 
 
 "Eh?" closely scanning Maurice's white face. 
 "Well, well! is it you, Monsieur Carewe?" 
 
 "Lieutenant von Hitter?" cried Maurice, drop- 
 ping the dog, who by now had grasped the mean- 
 ing of it all. "You came just in time !" 
 They shook hands. 
 
 "I'll lay odds that you put up a good fight," 
 the Lieutenant said, pleasantly. "Curse these stu- 
 dents! If I had my way I'd coop them all up in 
 their pest-hole of a university and blow them into 
 eternity." 
 
 "And how did the dog come in this part of the 
 town?" asked Maurice, picking up his hat. 
 
 "He was with her Eoyal Highness. This is char- 
 ity afternoon. She drives about giving alms to the 
 poor, and when she enters a house the dog stands 
 at the entrance to await her return. She came 
 out of another door and forgot the dog. Max 
 there remembered him only when we were several 
 blocks away. A dozen or so of those rascally stu-
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 219 
 
 dents stood opposite us when we stopped here. It 
 flashed on me in a minute why the dog did not 
 follow us. And we came back at a cut, leaving 
 her Highness with no one but the groom. Max, 
 take the dog to her Highness, and tell her that it 
 i<? Monsieur Carewe who is to be thanked." 
 
 Maurice blushed. "Say nothing of my part in 
 the fracas. It was nothing at all." 
 
 "Don't be modest, my friend," said the cuiras- 
 sier, laughing, while his comrade dismounted, took 
 the dog under his arm, and made off. "This is 
 one chance in a lifetime. Her Eoyal Highness will 
 insist on thanking you personally. 0, I know 
 Mademoiselle's caprices. And there's your h;)t, 
 crushed all out of shape. Truly, you are unfor- 
 tunate with your headgear." 
 
 "It's felt," said Maurice, slapping it against his 
 leg. "No harm done to the hat. Well, good day 
 to you, Lieutenant, and thanks. I must be off." 
 
 "Nay, nay !" cried the Lieutenant. "Wait a mo- 
 ment. 'There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, 
 taken at the flood ' How does that line go? 
 I was educated in England and speak English as 
 I do my mother tongue 
 
 "Won't you let me go?" asked Maurice. "Look 
 at my clothes." 
 
 "You ought to be thankful that they are dry 
 this time. Come; you'll have a good story to 
 carry back to Vienna. Princesses do not eat 
 people." 
 
 "No," said Maurice. 
 
 "Ye gods, listen to that! One would think by 
 the tone of your voice that you wished they did t"
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 There was no resisting this good humor; 
 and Maurice wanted only an excuse to wait. He 
 sat down on the steps, sucked the knuckles of 
 his hand, and contemplated the grin on the cuiras- 
 sier's face. 
 
 "I like you," said the Lieutenant; "I like your 
 sangfroid. The palace is a devil of a dull place, 
 and a new face is a positive relief. I suppose you 
 know that affairs here are bad; no honesty any- 
 where. Everybody has his hands tied. The stu- 
 dents know this, and do as they please. Think of 
 two hundred gendarmes in the city, and an affair 
 like this takes place without one of them turning 
 up ! 
 
 "I tell you frankly that it is all I can do to 
 withhold the edge of my saber when I meet those 
 students. Last night they held a noisy flambeau 
 procession around the Hohenstaufenplatz, knowing 
 full well that the king had had another stroke 
 and quiet was necessary. They would have waked 
 the dead. I have an idea that I forgot to use 
 the flat of my sword; at least, the hospital report 
 confirms my ^suspicions. Ah, here comes Max/'' 
 
 "Her Royal Highness desires to thank Monsieur 
 Carewe, and commands that he be brought to her 
 carriage/' 
 
 Lieutenant .von Mitter smiled, and Maurice 
 stood up and brushed himself. The troopers 
 sprang into the saddle and started on a walk, with 
 Maurice bringing up behind on foot. The thought 
 of meeting the princess, together with his recent 
 exertions, created havoc with his nerves. When he 
 arrived at the royal carriage, his usual coolness
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 221 
 
 forsook him. He fumbled with his hat, tongue- 
 tied. He stood in the Presence. 
 
 "Monsieur," said the Voice, "I thank you with 
 all my heart for your gallant service. Poor, poor 
 dog!" 
 
 "It was nothing, your Highness; any man would 
 have done the same thing." The red in the wheel- 
 spokes bothered his eyes. 
 
 "No, no ! you must not belittle it." 
 
 "If it had not been for Lieutenant von Mitter " 
 
 "Whither were you going, Monsieur ?" interrupted 
 the Voice. 
 
 "Nowhere; that is, I was going toward my hotel." 
 
 "The Continental?" 
 
 "Yes, your Highness." 
 
 "Step into the carriage, Monsieur;" the Voice 
 had the ring of command. "I will put you down 
 there. It is the least that I can do to show my 
 gratitude." 
 
 "I I to ride with your Highness ?" he stammered. 
 "0, no ! I that is it would scarcely be " 
 
 "You are not afraid of me, Monsieur?" with a 
 smile which, though it had a bit of the rogue in it, 
 was rather sad. She moved to the other side of 
 the seat and put the dog on the rug at her feet. 
 "Perhaps you are proud? Well, Monsieur, I too 
 am proud; so proud that I promise never to for- 
 give you if you refuse to gratify my wish." 
 
 "I was no't thinking of myself, your Highness, 
 or rather I was. I am not presentable. Look at 
 me; my hat is out of shape, my clothes dusty, and 
 I dare say that my face needs washing." 
 
 The Presence replied to this remarkable defense
 
 222 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 with laughter, laughter in which Maurice detect- 
 ed an undercurrent of bitterness. 
 
 "Monsieur Carewe, you are not acquainted with 
 affairs in Bleiberg, or you would know that I am 
 a nobody. When I pass through the streets I at- 
 tract little attention, I receive no homage. En- 
 ter: I command it." 
 
 "If your Highness commands " 
 
 "I do command it/' imperiously. "And you 
 would have pleased me more fully if you had ac- 
 cepted the invitation and not obeyed the com- 
 mand." 
 
 "I withdraw all objections," he said hastily, "and 
 accept the invitation." 
 
 "That is better," the Voice said. 
 
 Maurice, still uncovered, sat down n the front 
 seat. 
 
 "Not there, Monsieur; beside me. Etiquette 
 does not permit you to ride in front of me." 
 
 As he took the vacant place beside her he felt 
 a fire in his cheeks. The Voice and Presence 
 were disquieting. As the groom touched the 
 horses, Maurice was sensible of her sleeve against 
 his, and he drew away. The Presence appeared 
 unmindful. 
 
 "And you recognize me?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes, your Highness." He tried to remember 
 what he had said to her that day in the arch- 
 bishop's garden. Two or three things came back and 
 the color remounted his cheeks. 
 
 "Have you forgotten what you said to me?" 
 
 "I dare say I was impertinent," vaguely. 
 
 "Ah, you have forgotten, then!"
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 223 
 
 In all his life he never felt so ill at ease. To 
 what did she refer? That he would be proud to 
 be her friend? That if the princess was as beau- 
 tiful as the maid he could pass judgment? 
 
 "Yes, you have forgotten. Do you not remem- 
 ber that you offered to be my friend?" She read 
 him through and through, his embarrassment, the 
 tell-tale color in his cheeks. She laughed, and 
 there was nothing but youth in the laughter. 
 "Certainly you are afraid of me." 
 
 "I confess I am," he said. "I can not remem- 
 ber all I said to you." 
 
 Suddenly she, too, remembered something, and 
 it caused the red of the rose to ripple from her 
 throat to her eyes. "Poor dog! Not that they 
 hated him, but because I love him !" Tears started 
 to her eyes. "See, Monsieur Carewe; princesses 
 are human, they weep and they love. Poor dog! 
 My playmate and my friend. But for you they 
 might have killed him. Tell me how it happened." 
 She knew, but she wanted to hear the story from 
 his own lips. 
 
 His narrative was rather disjointed, and he 
 slipped in von Mitter as many times as possible, 
 thinking to do that individual a good turn. Per- 
 haps she noticed it, for at intervals she smiled. 
 During the telling he took out his handkerchief, 
 wiped the dog's head with it, and wound it tightly 
 about the injured leg. The dog knew; he wagged 
 his tail. 
 
 How handsome and brave, she thought, as she 
 observed the face in profile. Not a day had
 
 224 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 passed during the fortnight gone that she had 
 not conjured up some feature of that intel- 
 ligent countenance; sometimes it had been the eyes, 
 sometimes the chin and mouth., sometimes - the 
 shapely head. It was wrong; but this little sin 
 was so sweet. She had never expected to see him 
 again. He had come and gone, and she had thought 
 that the beginning and the end. Ah, if only she 
 were not a princess ! If only some hand would 
 sweep aside those insurmountable barriers called 
 birth and policy ! To be free, to be the mistress 
 of one's heart, one's dreams, one's desires! 
 
 "And you did it all alone," she said, softly; "all 
 alone." 
 
 "0, I had the advantage; I was not expected. 
 It was all over before they knew what had hap- 
 pened." 
 
 "And you had the courage to take a poor dog's 
 part? Did you know whose dog it was?" 
 
 "Yes, your Highness, I recognized him." 
 
 A secret gladness stole into her heart, and to 
 cover the flame which again rose to her cheeks, she 
 bent and smoothed the dog's head. This gave 
 Maurice an opportunity to look at her. What a 
 beautiful being she was ! He was actually sitting 
 beside her, breathing the same air, listening to her 
 voice. She exhaled a delicate perfume such as 
 incorporates itself in persons of high degree and 
 becomes a natural emanation, an incense vague and 
 indescribable. He felt that he was gazing on the 
 culmination of youth, beauty, and elegance. . . 
 Yes, Fitzgerald was right. To beggar one's self
 
 THE PUPPET CROWX 225 
 
 for love; honor and life, and all to the winds if 
 only love remained. 
 
 Presently she straightened, and he centered his 
 gaze on the back of the groom. 
 
 "Monsieur, place your hat upon your head," 
 smiling. "We have entered the Strasse, and I 
 should not like to embarrass you with the atten- 
 tion of the citizens." 
 
 He put on his hat. The impulse came to tell 
 her all that he knew in regard to the kingdom's 
 affairs; but his voice refused its offices. Besides, 
 it was too late; the carriage was rolling into the 
 Platz, and in a moment more it drew up before 
 the terrace of the Continental Hotel. Maurice 
 stepped out and bared his head. 
 
 "This evening, Monsieur, at nine, I shall expect 
 to see you at the archbishop's reception to the 
 corps diplomatique." A hand was extended toward 
 him. He did not know what to do about it. "I 
 am offering you my hand to kiss, Monsieur Carewe ; 
 it is a privilege which I do not extend to all." 
 
 As he touched it to his lips, he was sure that 
 a thousand pairs of eyes were centered on him. 
 The truth is, there were less than one hundred. 
 It was the first time in many months that the 
 Crown Princess had stopped before the Continen- 
 tal Hotel. To the guests it was an event; and 
 some even went as far as to whisper that the hand- 
 some young man was Prince Frederick, incog- 
 nito. 
 
 "God save your Eoyal Highness," said Maurice, 
 at loss for other words. He released her hand 
 and stepped back.
 
 226 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "Until this evening, then, Monsieur;" and the 
 royal barouche rolled away. 
 
 "Who loves me, loves my dog," said Maurice, 
 as he sped to his room.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 IN WHICH FORTUNE BECOMES CARELESS AND 
 PRODIGAL 
 
 On the night prior to the arrival of Maurice in 
 Bleiberg, there happened various things of mo- 
 ment. 
 
 At midnight the chancellor left the palace, after 
 having witnessed from a window the meeting of 
 the cuirassiers and the students, and sought his 
 bed; but his sleep was burdened with troubled 
 dreams. The clouds, lowering over his adminis- 
 tration, thickened and darkened. How many times 
 had he contemplated resigning his office, only to 
 put aside the thought and toil on? 
 
 Defeat in the end was to be expected, but still 
 there was ever that star of hope, a possible turn 
 in affairs which would carry him on to victory. 
 Victory is all the sweeter when it seems impos- 
 sible. Prince Frederick had disappeared, no one 
 knew where, the peasant girl theory could no 
 longer be harbored, and the wedding \vns but three 
 days hence. The Englishman had not stepped 
 above the horizon, and the telegrams to the four 
 ends of the world returned unanswered. Thus, 
 the chancellor stood alone; the two main props 
 227
 
 228 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 were gone from under. As he tossed on his 
 pillows he pondered over the apparent reticence 
 and indifference of the archbishop. 
 
 All was still in the vicinity of the palaces. Sen- 
 tinels paced noiselessly within the enclosures. In 
 the royal bedchamber the king was resting quietly, 
 and near by, on a lounge, the state physician 
 dozed. The Captain of the household troop of 
 cuirassiers nodded in the ante-room. 
 
 Only the archbishop remained awake. He sat 
 in his chamber and wrote. Now and then he 
 would moisten his lips with watered wine. Some- 
 times he held the pen in midair, and peered into 
 the shapeless shadows cast by the tapers, his broad 
 forehead shining and deep furrows between his 
 eyes. On, on he wrote. Perhaps the archbishop 
 was composing additional pages to his memoirs, 
 for occasionally his thin lips relaxed into an im- 
 penetrable smile. 
 
 There was little quiet in the lower town, 
 especially in the locality of the university. Old 
 Stuler*s was filled with smoke, students and tu- 
 mult. Ill feeling ran high. There were many 
 damaged heads, for the cuirassiers had not been 
 niggard with their sabers. 
 
 A student walked backward and forward on the 
 stage, waving wildly with his hands to command 
 attention. It was some time before he succeeded. 
 
 "Fellow-students, brothers of freedom and com- 
 rades," he began. "All this must come to an end, 
 and that at once. Our personal liberty is endan- 
 gered. Our rights are being trodden under foot. 
 Our ancient privileges are being laughed at. It
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 229 
 
 must end." This declaration was greeted by 
 shouts, sundry clattering of pewter lids and noisy 
 rappings of earthenware on the tables. "Have 
 we no rights as students? Must we give way to a 
 handful of beggarly mercenaries? Must we sub- 
 mit to the outlawing of our customs and observ- 
 ances ? What ! We must not parade because the 
 king does not like to be disturbed? And who are 
 the cuirassiers?" Nobody answered. Nobody 
 was expected to answer. "They are Frenchmen of 
 hated memory Swiss, Prussians, with Austrian 
 officers. Are we or are we not an independent 
 state? If independent, shall we stand by and see 
 our personal liberties restricted ? No ! I say no ! 
 "Let us petition to oust these vampires, who not 
 only rob us of our innocent amusements, but who 
 are fed by our taxes. What right had Austria to 
 dictate our politics? What right had she to dis- 
 avow the blood and give us these Osians? 0, my 
 brothers, where are the days of Albrecht III of 
 glorious memory? He acknowledged our rights. 
 He was our lawful sovereign. He understood and 
 loved us." This burst of sentiment was slightly 
 exaggerative, if the history of that monarch is to 
 be relied on; but the audience was mightily pleased 
 with this recollection. It served to add to their 
 distemper and wrath against the Osian puppet. 
 "And where are our own soldiers, the soldiers of 
 the kingdom ? Moldering away in the barracks, un- 
 noticed and forgotten. For the first time in the 
 history of the country foreigners patrol the pal- 
 aces. Our soldiers are nobodies. They hold no 
 office at court save that of Marshal, and his voice
 
 230 
 
 is naught. Yet the brunt of the soldier's life falls 
 on them. They watch at the frontiers, tireless and 
 vigilant, while the mercenaries riot and play. 
 Brothers, the time has come for us to act. The 
 army is with us, and 'so are the citizens. Let ours 
 be the glory of touching the match. We are 
 brave and competent. We are drilled. We lack 
 not courage. Let us secretly arm and watch for 
 the opportunity to strike a blow for our rights. 
 Confusion to the Osians, and may the duchess 
 soon come into her own!" 
 
 He jumped from the stage, and another took his 
 place; the haranguing went on. The orators were 
 serious and earnest; they believed themselves to be 
 patriots, pure and simple, when in truth they were 
 experiencing the same spirit of revolt as the boy 
 whose mother had whipped him for making an 
 unnecessary noise, or stealing into the buttery. 
 
 While the excitement was at its height, a man, 
 somewhat older than the majority of the students, 
 entered the bar-room from the street, and lounged 
 heavily against the railing. His clothes were 
 soiled and wrinkled, blue circles shadowed his eyes, 
 which were of dull jet, the corners of his mouth 
 drooped dejectedly, and his oily face, covered 
 with red stubble, gave evidences of a prolonged de- 
 bauch. 
 
 "Wine, Stiller, wine !" he called, laying down a 
 coin, which gleamed dimly yellow in the opales- 
 cent light. "And none of your devilish vinegars 
 and scums." 
 
 Stiller pounced on the coin and rubbed it be- 
 tween his palms. "Gold, Johann, gold?"
 
 THE PUPPET C II W X 231 
 
 "Aye, gold; and the last of a pocketful, curse 
 it ! What's this noise about ?" with a gesture 
 toward the hall. 
 
 "The boys were in the Platz and had a brush 
 with those damned cuirassiers. They'll play a 
 harder game yet." Stiller always took sides with 
 the students, on business principles; they consti- 
 tuted his purse. "Tokayer?" 
 
 "No; champagne. Aye, these damned cuiras- 
 siers shall play a hard game ere the week is done, 
 or my name is not Johann Kopf. They kicked me 
 out of the palace grounds yesterday ; me, me, me I" 
 hammering the oak with his fist. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Von Hitter, the English-bred dog! I'll kill 
 him one of these days. Is it play to-night, or are 
 they serious?" nodding again toward the hall. 
 
 "Go in," said Stiller, "and look at some of those 
 heads ; a look will answer the purpose." 
 
 Johann followed this advice. The picture he 
 saw was one which agreed with the idea that had 
 come into his mind. He returned to the bar-room 
 and drank his wine thirstily, refilled the glass and 
 emptied it. Stiller shook his head. Johann was 
 in a bad way when he gulped wine instead of 
 sipping it. Yet it was always so after a carouse. 
 
 "Where have you been keeping yourself the past 
 week?" he asked. If the students were his purse, 
 Johann was his budget of news. 
 
 "You ask that?" surlily. "You knew I had 
 money; you knew that I was off somewhere spend- 
 ing it God knows where, I don't. Another bottle
 
 232 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 of wine. There's enough left from the gold to pay 
 for it." 
 
 Stiller complied. Johann's thirst seemed in no 
 way assuaged; hut soon the sullen expression, the 
 aftermath of his spree, was replaced by one of 
 reckless jollity. His eyes began to sparkle. 
 
 "A great game, Stiller; they're playing a great 
 game, and you and I will be in at the reaping. 
 The town is quiet, you say? The troops have 
 ceased murmuring, eh? A lull that comes before 
 the storm. And when it breaks and break it 
 will ! gay times for you and me. There will be 
 sacking. I have the list of those who lean toward 
 the Osians. There will be loot, old war dog !" 
 
 Stiller smiled indulgently; Johann was begin- 
 ning to feel the wine. Perhaps he was to learn 
 something. "Yes, 'twill be a glorious day." 
 
 "A week hence, and the king goes forth a bank- 
 rupt." 
 
 "If he lives," judiciously. 
 
 "Dead or alive, it matters not which; he goes." 
 
 "And the wedding ? What is it I hear about 
 Prince Frederick and the peasant girl?" 
 
 Johann laughed. "There will be no wedding." 
 
 "And the princess?" 
 
 "A pretty morsel, a tidbit for the king that is 
 to be." 
 
 "The king that eh, Johann, are you getting 
 drunk so soon?" Stiller exclaimed. "I know of 
 no king " 
 
 Johann reached over and caught the innkeeper's 
 wrist. The grasp was no gentle one. "Listen,
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 233 
 
 that was a slip of the tongue. Repeat 'it, and that 
 for your life! Do you understand, my friend?" 
 
 "Gott in" 
 
 "Do you understand?" fiercely. 
 
 "Yes, yes !" Stiller wiped his face with his 
 apron. 
 
 "Good, if you understand. It was naught but 
 a slip of the tongue," nonchalantly. "In a little 
 week, my friend, your till will have no vulgar sil- 
 ver in it; gold, yellow gold." 
 
 "And the duchess?" with hesitance. The budget 
 of news to-night was not of the usual kind. 
 
 Johann did not answer, save by a shrug. 
 
 The perturbation of the old man was so mani- 
 festly beyond control that he could not trust his 
 legs. He dropped on the stool, giving his grizzled 
 head a negative shake. "I would that you had 
 made no slip of the tongue, Johann," he mur- 
 mured. "Gott, what is going on? The princess 
 was not to wed, to be sure, but the duchess passed 
 a king besides " 
 
 "Silence !" enjoined Johann. "Stiller, I am 
 about to venture on a daring enterprise, which, if 
 successful, will mean plenty of gold. Come with 
 me into your private office, where we shall not be 
 interrupted nor overheard." He vaulted the bar. 
 Stiller looked undecided. "Come!" commanded 
 Johann. With another shake of his head Stiller 
 took down the tallow dip, unlocked the door, and 
 bade Johann pass in. He caught up another bot- 
 tle and glass and followed. Without a word he 
 filled the glass and set it down before Johann, who 
 raised it and drank, his beady eyes flashing over the
 
 234 THE PUPPET CBOWN 
 
 rim of the glass and compelling the innkeeper to 
 withdraw his gaze. 
 
 "Well?" said Stiller, uneasily. 
 
 "I need you." Johann finished his glass with 
 moderate slowness. "Your storehouse on the lake 
 is empty?" 
 
 "Yes, but" 
 
 "I shall want it, two nights from this, in case 
 Madame the duchess does not conquer the English- 
 man. I shall want two fellows who will ask no 
 questions, but who will follow my instructions to 
 the letter. It is an abduction." 
 
 "A nasty business," was Stiiler's comment. 
 "You have women to thank for your present occu- 
 pation, Johann." 
 
 "Stiller, you are a fool. It is not a woman; it 
 is a crown." 
 
 "Eh?" Stiiler's eyes bulged. 
 
 "A crown. The duchess may remain a duchess. 
 Who is master in Bleiberg to-day? At whose 
 word the army moves or stands? At whose word 
 the Osians fall or reign? On whom does the 
 duchess rely? Who is king in deed, if not in fact? 
 Who will find means to liquidate the kingdom's 
 indebtedness, whoever may be the creditor ? Pah ! 
 the princess may marry, but the groom will not be 
 Prince Frederick. The man she will marry will 
 be the husband of a queen, and he will be a king 
 behind a woman's skirts. It is what the French 
 call a coup d'etat. She will be glad to marry; 
 there is no alternative. She will submit, if only 
 that her father may die in peace." 
 
 "And this king?" in a whisper.
 
 235 
 
 "You are old, Stiller; you remember many 
 things of the past. Do you recollect a prince of a 
 noble Austrian house by the name of Walmoden, 
 once an aide to the emperor, who was cashiered 
 from the army and exiled for corresponding with 
 France ?" 
 
 Stiiler's hand shook as he brushed his forehead. 
 "YeSj I recollect. He fought against the Prus- 
 sians in the Franco-Prussian war, then disappeared, 
 to be heard of again as living in a South American 
 republic. But what has he to do with all this? 
 Ah, Johann, this is deep water." 
 
 "For those who have not learned to swim. You 
 will aid me? A thousand crowns two hundred 
 pieces of gold like that which has just passed from 
 my pocket into yours. It is politics." 
 
 "But the sacking of the town?" 
 
 "A jest. If Madame the duchess conquers the 
 Englishman, the king that is to be will pay her. 
 Then, if she wages war Austria can say nothing 
 for defending ourselves." 
 
 "And Walmoden?" Stiller struck his forehead 
 with his fist as if to pound it into a state of lucid- 
 ity. "Where is he? It is a stone wall; I can see 
 nothing." 
 
 "Beauvais." 
 
 "Beauvais !" Stiller half rose from his chair, 
 but sank again. 
 
 "Exactly. This play, for some reason unex- 
 plained, is the price of his re-establishment into 
 the graces of the noble Hapsburgs. Between us, I 
 think the prince is playing a game for himself. 
 But who shall blame him?"
 
 236 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "The devil ! I thought Austria was very favor- 
 able to the Osian house." 
 
 "Favorable or not, it is nothing to us." 
 
 "Well, well, it's a thousand crowns," philosoph- 
 ically. 
 
 "That's the sentiment," laughed Johann. "It 
 is not high treason, it is not Use majeste; it is 
 not a crime; it is a thousand crowns. Votre sante, 
 as the damned French say !" swallowing what was 
 left of the wine. "And then, it is purely patriotic 
 in us," with a deceitful smile. 
 
 "The storehouse is yours, and the men. Now 
 tell me .how 'tis to be played." 
 
 "Where does her Royal Highness go each Thurs- 
 day evening, accompanied by her eternal cuiras- 
 siers, von Mitter and Scharf enstein ?" 
 
 "Where but to see her old nurse Elizabeth? But 
 two men will not be enough. Von Mitter and 
 Scharf enstein " 
 
 "Will as usual remain at the carriage. But 
 what's to prevent the men from gaining en- 
 trance by the rear? carrying off her Highness 
 that way, passing through the alley and making 
 off, to be a mile away before the cuirassiers even 
 dream of the attempt?" 
 
 "After all, I'd rather the duchess." 
 
 "We can not all be kings and queens." Johann 
 got up and slapped Stiller familiarly on the shoul- 
 der. "Forget not the gold, the yellow gold; little 
 heaps of it to finger, to count, and to spend." 
 
 Stiiler's eyes gleamed phosphorescently. There 
 was the strain of the ancient marauder in his 
 veins; gold easily gotten. He opened the door,
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 237 
 
 and Johann passed out, swaying. The wine was 
 taking hold of him. He turned into the hall, 
 while Stiller busied himself with the spigots. Some 
 one discovered the spy, and called him by name; 
 it was caught up by others, and there were numer- 
 ous calls for a speech. 
 
 As a socialist Johann was well known about 
 the lower town. Besides, five years gone, he 
 himself had been a student and a brother of 
 freedom. He had fought a dozen successful 
 duels, and finally had been expelled from 
 the university for beating a professor who had ob- 
 jected to his conduct in the presence of ladies. 
 Other ill reports added to his popularity. To be 
 popular in this whimsical world of ours, one has 
 either to be very good or very bad. Johann was 
 not unwilling to speak. Stiller had given him the 
 cue; the cuirassiers. His advice was secretly to 
 arm and hold in readiness. As this was the sub- 
 stance of the other speeches, Johann received his 
 meed of applause. 
 
 "And let us not forget the bulldog; let us kill 
 him, too," cried one of the auditors; "the prodi- 
 gal bulldog, who has lived on our fatted calves." 
 
 This was unanimously adopted. The bulldog 
 was not understood; and he smacked of the Eng- 
 lish. Then, too, the bulldog roamed too freely in 
 the royal enclosures; and, until late years, trespass- 
 ers fared badly. The students considered that 
 their privileges extended everywhere; the dog, not 
 being conversant with these privileges, took that 
 side which in law is called the benefit of a doubt.
 
 238 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 After his speech Johann retired to the bar-room. 
 What he desired most of all was a replenished 
 purse. Popular he was; but the students knew his 
 failings, among which stood prominently that of 
 a forgetful borrower. They would buy him drinks, 
 clothes and food, if need be, but they would not 
 lend him a stiver. And he could not borrow from 
 Stiller, whose law was only to trust. Johann 
 gambled, and wine always brought back the mad 
 fever for play. The night before he had lost 
 rather heavily, and he wanted to recover his losses. 
 Rouge-et-noir had pinched him; he would be re- 
 venged on the roulette. All day long combinations 
 and numbers danced before his eyes. He had de- 
 vised several plans by which to raise money, but 
 these had fallen through. Suddenly he smiled, 
 and beckoned to Stiller. 
 
 "Stiller, how much will you advance me,'* he 
 asked, "on a shotgun worth one hundred crowns?" 
 
 "A shotgun worth one hundred crowns? Ten." 
 
 Johann made a negative gesture. "Fifty or 
 none. You can sell it for seventy-five in the morn- 
 ing. So could I, only I want the money to-night." 
 
 "If you want wine " began Stiller. 
 
 "I want money." 
 
 Stiller scratched his nose. "Bring the gun to 
 me. If it is worth what you say, I'll see what I 
 can do." 
 
 "In an hour;" and Johann went out. A cold 
 thin rain was falling, and a dash of it in the face 
 had a cooling effect. Somehow, the exhilaration of 
 the wine was gone, and his mood took a sullen turn. 
 Money! he was ever in need of money. He cursed
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 239 
 
 his ill luck. He cursed the cause of it drink. 
 But for drink he would not have been plain Johann 
 Kopf, brawler, outcast, spy, disowned by his fam- 
 ily and all save those who could use him. He re- 
 mained standing in the doorway, brooding. 
 
 At last he drew his collar about his throat and 
 struck off, a black shadow in a bank of gray. When 
 he reached that part of the street opposite the Grand 
 Hotel, he stopped and sought shelter under an 
 awning. The night patrol came clattering down 
 the street. It passed quickly, and soon all was 
 still again. Johann stepped out and peered up and 
 down. The street was deserted. All the hotel 
 windows were in gloom, save a feeble light which 
 beamed from the office windows. 
 
 Would it be robbery? He had not yet stooped tt> 
 that. But he could hear the ivory ball clatter 
 as it fell into the lucky numbers. He had a pre- 
 monition that he would win if he stuck to a 
 single combination. He would redeem the gun, 
 replace it, and no one would be any the wiser. If 
 
 his numbers failed him No matter. 
 
 He determined to cross the Eubicon. He traversed 
 the street and disappeared into the cavernous al- 
 ley, shortly to loom up in the deserted courtyard 
 of the hotel. He counted the windows on the first 
 floor and stopped at the fourth. That was the 
 window he must enter. Noiselessly he crept along 
 the walls, stopping now and then to listen. There 
 was no sound except the monotonous dripping of 
 the rain, which was growing thinner and colder. 
 
 Presently he came across the ladder he was seek- 
 ing. He raised it to the required height, and once
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 more placed his hand to his ear. Silence. He 
 mounted the rounds to the window, which he found 
 unfastened. In another moment he was in the 
 room. Not an object could he see, so deep was 
 the darkness. If he moved without light he was 
 likely to stumble, and heydey to his fifty crowns, 
 not to say his liberty for many days to come. He 
 carefully drew the blinds and struck a match. 
 The first object which met his gaze was a fallen 
 candle. This he lit and when the glare of the 
 flame softened, all the corners of the room stood 
 out. Nowhere was there any sign of a gun. 
 He gave vent to a half-muttered curse. Some one 
 had pilfered the gun, or the proprietor was keep- 
 ing it until the Englishman returned from the 
 duchy. But he remembered that there were two 
 guns, one of which the Englishman did not use 
 in the hunting expeditions. 
 
 So he began a thorough search. It meant 
 fifty crowns, green baize and the whims of for- 
 tune. Cautiously he moved between the fallen 
 chairs. He looked behind the bed, under the 
 dresser, but without success. His hand closed 
 savagely around the candle, and he swore inaudibly. 
 He threw back the bed coverings, not that he 
 expected to find anything, but because he could 
 vent his rage on these silent, noiseless things. 
 When he lifted the mattress it was then he took 
 a deep breath and smiled. What he saw was 
 a gun case. He drew it from under. It was 
 heavy; his fifty crowns were inside. Next he 
 picked up a candlestick and stuffed the candle 
 into it, and laid a quilt against the threshold of
 
 THE PUPPET CRO.WN 241 
 
 the door so that no light would pierce the corridor. 
 
 "This is the gun the Englishman did not use iu 
 the hunting expeditions," he thought. "If it is 
 out of repair, as he said it was, my fifty crowns 
 are not so many pf ennige. The devil ! it must he 
 a valuable piece of gun smithing, to hide it under 
 the bedclothes. Let me see if my crowns are for 
 the picking." 
 
 He investigated forthwith. The hammers and 
 the triggers worked smoothly. He unlocked the 
 breech and held the nozzles toward the candle light 
 and again cursed. The barrels were clogged up. 
 Notwithstanding, he plucked forth the cleaning-rod 
 and forced it into one of the tubes. There was a 
 slight resistance, and something fluttered to the 
 floor and rolled about. The second tube was 
 treated likewise, with the same result. Johann 
 laughed silently. The fifty crowns were tangible; 
 he could hear them jingling in his pocket, and a 
 pretty music they made. He returned the leather 
 case to its original place and devoted his attention 
 to the cylinder-shaped papers on the floor. 
 
 For a quarter of an hour Johann remained seated 
 on the floor, in the wavering candle light, forget- 
 ful of all save the delicate tracings of steel engrav- 
 ing, the red and green inks, the great golden seal, 
 the signatures, the immensity of the ciphers which 
 trailed halfway across each crackling parchment. 
 He counted sixteen of them in all. Four millions 
 of crowns. . . . He was rich, 'rich beyond all 
 his wildest dreams. 
 
 He rose, and restored the gun to its case. Fifty 
 crowns? No, no! A hundred thousand, not a
 
 242 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 crown less ; a hundred thousand ! all thoughts of 
 the green baize and the rattle of the roulette ball 
 passed away. There was no need to seek fortune; 
 she had come to him of her own free will. Wine, 
 Gertrude of the opera, Paris and a life of ease; 
 all these were his. A hundred thousand crowns, a 
 hundred thousand florins, two hundred thousand 
 francs, two hundred thousand marks ! He com- 
 puted in all monetary denominations; in all coun- 
 tries it was wealth. 
 
 Something rose and swelled in his throat, 
 and he choked hysterically. A voice whispered: 
 "No, not a hundred thousand; four millions!" 
 But reason, though it tottered, regained its bal- 
 ance, and he saw the utter futility of attempting 
 to dispose of the orders on the government inde- 
 pendently. His hands trembled; he could scarce- 
 ly hold this vast treasure. Twice, in his haste to 
 pocket the certificates, they slipped from his grasp 
 and scattered. How those six syllables frolicked 
 in his mind! A hundred thousand crowns! 
 
 He extinguished the candle and laid it on the 
 floor, put the quilt on the bed, then climbed through 
 the window, which he closed without mishap. He 
 descended the ladder. As he reached the bottom 
 round his heart gave a great leap. From the 
 alley came the sound of approaching steps. Nearer 
 and nearer they came ; a shadow entered the court- 
 yard and made straight for the door, which was 
 but a few feet* from the reclining ladder. The 
 kitchen door opened and the burst of light re- 
 vealed a belated serving maid. A moment passed, 
 and all became dark again. But Johann felt a
 
 243 
 
 strange weakness in his knees, and a peculiar thrill 
 at the roots of his hair. He dared not move for 
 three or four minutes. But he waited in vain for 
 other steps. He cursed the serving maid for the 
 fright, disposed of the ladder, and sought the 
 street. He directed his steps toward Stiiler's. 
 
 "The pig of an Englishman was deeper than I 
 thought. In the gun barrels, the gun barrels ! If 
 I had not wanted to play they would have been 
 there yet ! A hundred thousand crowns !" 
 
 It had ceased to rain, and a frost was congeal- 
 ing the moisture under foot. On the way back to 
 Stiiler's Johann slipped and fell several times; 
 but he was impervious to pain, bruises were noth- 
 ing. He was rich ! He laughed ; and from time 
 to time thrust his hand into his vest to convince 
 himself that he was not dreaming. To whom 
 should he sell? To the Osians? To the duchess? 
 To the king that was to be? Who would pay 
 quickest the hundred thousand crowns? He knew. 
 Aye, two hundred thousand would not be too much. 
 The Englishman would send for the certificates, 
 but his agent would not find them. The abduc- 
 tion? He would carry it through as he had prom- 
 ised. It was five thousand crowns in addition to 
 his hundred thousand. He was rich! He shook 
 his hand toward the inky sky, toward the palace, 
 
 toward all that signified the past A 
 
 hundred thousand crowns!
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE 
 AND AFTER 
 
 Maurice, as he labored before his mirror, won- 
 dered why in the world it took him so long to 
 dress. An hour had passed since he began his 
 evening toilet; yet here he was, still tinkering, so 
 to speak, over the last of a dozen cravats. The 
 eleven others lay strewn about, hopelessly crumpled : 
 mute witnesses of angry fingers and impassioned 
 mutterings. Usually he could slip into his evening 
 clothes in less than thirty minutes. Something 
 was wrong. But perhaps this occasion was not 
 usual. 
 
 First, the hems of his trousers were insur- 
 gent; they persisted in hitching on the tops of 
 his button shoes. Laces were substituted. Then 
 came a desultory period, during which gold but- 
 tons were exchanged for pearl and pearl for gold, 
 and two-button shirts for three-button. For Mau- 
 rice was something of a dandy. He could not 
 imagine what was tbe matter with his neck, all 
 the collars seemed so small. For once his mis- 
 haps did not appeal to his humor. The ascent 
 244
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 245 
 
 from his shoes to his collar was as tortuous as that 
 of the alpine Jungfrau. 
 
 Ah, Madam, you may smile as much as you 
 please, but it is a terrible thing for a man to dress 
 and at the same time think kindly of his fellow- 
 beings. You set aside three hours for your toilet, 
 and devote two hours to the little curl which droops 
 over the tip of your dainty ear; but with a man 
 who has no curl, who knows nothing of the practice 
 of smiles and side glances, the studied carelessness 
 of a pose, it is a dismal, serious business up to the 
 last moment. 
 
 With a final glance into the mirror, and con- 
 vinced that if he touched himself it would be only 
 to disarrange the perfection which he had striven 
 so hard to attain, Maurice went down stairs. He 
 had still an hour to while away before presenting 
 himself at the archbishop's palace. So he 
 roamed about the verandas, twirled his cane, and 
 smoked like a captain who expects to see his men 
 in active engagement the very next moment. This, 
 together with the bad hour in his room, was an 
 indication that his nerves were finely strung. 
 
 He was nervous, not because he was to see strange 
 faces, not because his interest in the kingdom's 
 affairs was both comic and tragic, nor because he 
 was to present himself at the archbishop's in a 
 peculiar capacity, that of a prisoner on parole. No, 
 it was due to none of these. His pulse did not 
 stir at the prospect of meeting the true king. 
 Diplomatic functions were every-day events with 
 him. He had passed several years of his life in 
 the vicinity of emperors, kings, viceroys, and pres-
 
 246 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 idents, and their greatness had long ago ceased 
 to interest or even to amuse him. He was con- 
 scious only of an agitation which had already 
 passed through the process of analysis. He loved, 
 he loved the impossible and the unattainable, and 
 it was the exhilaration of this thought that agi- 
 tated him. He never would be the same again 
 he would be better. Neither did he regret this 
 love. 
 
 Even now he could see himself back in his 
 rooms in Vienna, smoking before the fire, and 
 building castles that tumbled down. It was 
 worth while, if only to have something to dream 
 about. He did not regret the love, he regretted 
 its futility. How could he serve her? What 
 could he do against all these unseen forces which 
 were crumbling her father's throne? So she re- 
 membered what he had said to her in the arch- 
 bishop's garden? He looked at his watch. It 
 was nine. 
 
 <c Let us be off/' he said. He started for the 
 Platz. "How uncertain life is. It seems that I 
 did not come to Bleiberg carelessly in the way of 
 amusement, but to work out a part of my des- 
 tiny." He arrested his steps at the fountain and 
 listened to the low, musical plash of the water, 
 each drop of which fell with the light of a daz- 
 zling jewel. The cold stars shone from above. 
 They were not farther away than she. A princess, 
 a lonely and forlorn princess, hemmed in by 
 the fabric of royal laws; a princess yet pos- 
 sessing less liberty than the meanest of her peas- 
 ants. Nothing belonged to her, not even her
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 247 
 
 heart, which was merchandise, a commodity of ex- 
 change, turned over to the highest bidder. "Roy- 
 alty," he mused, "is a political slave-dealer; the 
 slaves are those who wear the crowns." 
 
 Once inside the palace, he became a man of the 
 world, polished, nonchalant, handsome, and mild- 
 ly curious. Immediately after the usher an- 
 nounced his name, he crossed the chamber and 
 presented his respects to the prelate, who, he rea- 
 soned not unwisely, expected him. The friendly 
 greeting of the archbishop confirmed this reason- 
 ing. 
 
 "I am delighted to see you, Monsieur," he said, 
 showing his remarkably well preserved teeth in the 
 smile that followed his words. "A service to her 
 Royal Highness is a service to me. Amuse your- 
 self; you will find some fine paintings in the west 
 gallery." 
 
 "I trust her Royal Highness is none the worse for 
 the fright," Maurice replied. He also remarked 
 (mentally) that he did not see her Highness any- 
 where. Several introductions followed, and he 
 found himself chatting with the British minister. 
 
 "Carewe?" the Englishman repeated thought- 
 fully. "Are you not Maurice Carewe, of the 
 American Legation in Vienna?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "May I ask you a few questions?" 
 
 "A thousand." 
 
 "A fellow-countryman of mine has mysteriously 
 disappeared. He left Vienna for Bleiberg, saying 
 that if nothing was heard of him within a week's 
 time, to make inquiries about him. This request
 
 248 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 was left with the British ambassador, who has just 
 written me, adding that a personal friend of the 
 gentleman in question was in Bleiberg, and that 
 this friend was Maurice Carewe, attache to the 
 American Legation. Are you acquainted with 
 Lord Fitzgerald, son of my late predecessor?" 
 
 "I am indeed. I saw him in Vienna/' said 
 Maurice; "but he said nothing to me about com- 
 ing here," which was true enough. "Is there any 
 cause for apprehension?" 
 
 "Only his request to be looked up within a cer- 
 tain time. The truth is, he was to have come here 
 on a peculiar errand," with lowered voice. "Did 
 you ever hear of what is called 'Fitzgerald's folly ?' " 
 
 "Yes; few haven't heard of it." Maurice could 
 never understand why he resisted the impulse to 
 tell the whole affair. A dozen words to the man 
 at his side, and the catastrophes, even embryonic, 
 would be averted. "You must tell me who most 
 of these people are," he said, in order to get 
 around a disagreeable subject. "I am a total 
 stranger." 
 
 "With pleasure. That tall, angular old man, in 
 the long, gray frock, with decorations, is Marshal 
 Kampf. You must meet him; he is the wittiest 
 man in Bleiberg. The gentleman with the red 
 beard is Mollendorf of the police. And beside 
 him yes, the little man with glasses and a loose 
 cravat is Count von Wallenstein, the minister of 
 finance. That is the chancellor talking to the 
 archbishop. Ah, Mr. Carewe, these receptions are 
 fine comedies. The Marshal, the count and Mol- 
 lendorf represent what is called the Auersperg
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 249 
 
 faction under the rose. It is a continual battle of 
 eyes and tongues. One smiles at his enemy, 
 knows him to be an enemy, yet dares not touch him. 
 
 "Confidentially, this play has never had the like. 
 To convict his enemies of treason has been for ten 
 years the labor of the chancellor; yet, though he 
 knows them to be in correspondence with the 
 duchess, he can find nothing on the strength of 
 which to accuse openly. It is a conspiracy which 
 lias no papers. One can not take out a man's 
 brains- and say, 'Here is proof!' They talk, they 
 walk on thin ice; but so fine is their craft that no 
 incautious word ever falls, nor does any one go 
 through the ice. 
 
 "I have watched the play for ten years. I should 
 not speak to you about it, only it is one of those 
 things known to all here. Those gentlemen talk- 
 ing to the chancellor's wife are the ministers from 
 Austria, Prussia, France, and Servia. You will 
 not find it as lively here as it is in Vienna. We 
 meet merely to watch each other," with a short 
 laugh. "Good. The Marshal is approaching." 
 
 They waited. 
 
 "Marshal," said the minister, "this is Monsieur 
 Carewe, who rescued her Highness's dog from the 
 students." 
 
 "Ah!" replied the Marshal, grimly. "Do not 
 expect me to thank you, Monsieur; only day be- 
 fore yesterday the dog snapped at my legs. I am 
 living out of pure spite, to see that dog die before 
 I do. Peace to his ashes the sooner the better." 
 
 The minister turned to Maurice and laughed. 
 
 "Eh!" said the Marshal.
 
 250 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "I prophesied that you would speak disparag- 
 ingly of the dog." 
 
 "What a reputation!" cried the old soldier. "I 
 dare say that you have been telling Monsieur Ca- 
 rewe that I am a wit. Monsieur, never attempt 
 to be witty; they will put you down for a wit, and 
 laugh at anything you say, even when you put 
 yourself out to speak the truth. If I possess any 
 wit it is like young grapes sour. You are con- 
 nected in Vienna?" 
 
 "With the American Legation." 
 
 "Happy is the country," said the Marshal, 
 "which is so far away that Europe can find no 
 excuse to meddle with it." 
 
 "And even then Europe would not dare," Mau- 
 rice replied, with impertinence aforethought. 
 
 "That is not a diplomatic speech." 
 
 "It is true." 
 
 "I like your frankness." 
 
 "Let that go toward making amends for saving 
 the dog." 
 
 "Are all American diplomats so frank?" in 
 quired the Marshal, with an air of feigned wonder. 
 
 "Indeed, no," answered Maurice. "Just at 
 present J am not in a diplomatic capacity; I need 
 not look askance at truth. And there is no rea- 
 son why we should not always be truthful." 
 
 "You are wrong. It's truth's infrequenoy 
 which makes her so charming and refreshing. 
 However, I thank you for your services to her 
 Highness; your services to her dog I shall try to 
 forget." And with this the Marshal moved away,
 
 251 
 
 shaking his head as if he had inadvertently 
 stumbled on an intricate problem. 
 
 Not long after, Maurice was left to his own de- 
 vices. He viewed the scene, silent and curious. 
 Conversation was carried on in low tones, and 
 laughter was infrequent and subdued. The women 
 dressed without ostentation. There were no fair 
 arms and necks. Indeed, these belong wholly to 
 youth, and youth was not a factor at the arch- 
 bishop's receptions. Most of the men were old 
 and bald, and only the wives of the French and 
 British ministers were pretty or young. How 
 different from Vienna, where youth and beauty 
 abound ! There were no music, no long tables of 
 refreshments, no sparkling wines, no smoking- 
 room, good stories and better fellowship. There 
 was an absence of the flash of jewels and color 
 which make court life attractive. 
 
 There seemed to be hanging in the air some invis- 
 ible power, the forecast of a tragedy, the begin- 
 ning of an unknown end. And yet the prelate 
 smiled on enemies and friends alike. As Maurice 
 observed that smile he grew perplexed. It was a 
 smile such as he had seen on the faces of men who, 
 about to die, felt the grim satisfaction of having 
 an enemy for company. The king lay on his death 
 bed, in all probabilities the throne tottered; yet 
 the archbishop smiled. 
 
 The princess did not know that her father was 
 dying; this was a secret which had not yet been 
 divulged to her. And this was the only society she 
 knew. Small wonder that she was sad and lonely. 
 To be young, and to iind one's self surrounded by
 
 232 THE PUPPET CKOWX 
 
 the relics of youth ; what an existence ! She had 
 never known the beauty of a glittering ball- 
 room, felt the music of a waltz mingle with the 
 quick throbs of the heart, the pleasure of bestow- 
 ing pleasure. She had never read the mute yet 
 intelligent admiration in a young man's eyes. And 
 what young woman does not yearn for the honest 
 adoration of an honest man? Poor, lonely princess 
 indeed. For, loving the world as he himself did, 
 Maurice understood what was slipping past her. 
 Every moment the roots of love were sinking deeper 
 into his heart and twining firmly about, as a vine 
 to a trellis. 
 
 Is there a mental telegraphy, an indefinable 
 substance which is affected by the close proximity 
 of a presence, which, while we do not see, we feel? 
 Perhaps; at an)- rate, Maurice suddenly became 
 a \vare of that peculiar yet now familiar agitation 
 of his nerves. Instinctively he turned his head. 
 In the doorway which separated the chamber from 
 the conservatory stood her Eoyal Highness. She 
 was dressed entirely in black, which accentuated 
 the whiteness the Carrara marble whiteness of 
 her exquisite skin. In the dark, shining coils 
 swept back from her brow lay the subtle snare of 
 a red rose. There was no other color except on 
 the full lips. She saw Maurice, but she was so 
 far away that the faint reflection of the rose on 
 her cheeks was gone before he reached her side. 
 
 "I was afraid," she said, lowering her eyes as 
 she uttered the fib, "that you would not come after 
 all." 
 
 "It would have been impossible for me to stay
 
 THE PUPPET CKCMYN 253 
 
 away," he replied, liis eyes ardent. The princess 
 looked away. "And may I ask after the health 
 of the dog?'" 
 
 "Thanks to you, Monsieur; he is getting along 
 finely. Poor dog; he will always limp. What 
 it: it that makes men inflict injuries on dumb 
 creatures ?" 
 
 "It is the beast that is envious of the brute." 
 
 "And your hand?'' with a glance sympathetic 
 and inquiring. 
 
 "My hand?" 
 
 "Yes; did you not injure it?" 
 
 "0 !" He laughed and held out two gloved 
 hands for her inspection. "That was only a 
 scratch. In fact, I do not remember which hand 
 it was." 
 
 "You are very modest. I should have made 
 much of it." 
 
 He could not translate this; so he said: "There 
 was nothing injured but my hat. I seem unfor- 
 tunate in that direction." 
 
 She smiled, recalling the incident in the arch- 
 bishop's garden. 
 
 "I shall keep the hat, however," he said, "as a 
 souvenir." 
 
 "Souvenirs, Monsieur," she replied carelessly, 
 "and old age are synonymous. You and I ought 
 not to have any souvenirs. Have you seen the 
 picture gallery ? No ? Then I shall have the pleas- 
 ure of showing it to you. Monseigneur is very 
 proud of his gallery. He has a Leonardo, a Bot- 
 ticelli, a Murillo, and a Eembrandt. And they
 
 254 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 really show better in artificial light, which soft- 
 ens the effect of time." 
 
 Half an hour was passed in the gallery. It 
 was very pleasant to listen to her voice as she de- 
 scribed this and that painting, and the archbish- 
 op's adventures in securing them. It did not 
 seem possible to him that she was a princess, per- 
 haps destined to become a queen, so free was she 
 from the attributes of royalty, so natural and in- 
 genuous. He caught each movement of her deli- 
 cate head, each gesture of her hand, the countless 
 inflections of her voice, the lights which burned 
 or died away in the dark wine of her eyes. 
 
 Poor devil ! he mused, himself in mind ; poor fool ! 
 He forgot the world, he forgot that he was a pris- 
 oner on parole, he forgot the strife between the 
 kingdom and the duchy, he forgot everything but 
 the wild impossible love which filled his senses. 
 He forgot even Prince Frederick of Carnavia. 
 
 In truth, the world was "a sorry scheme of things." 
 It was grotesque with inequalities. He had no 
 right to love her; it was wrong to give in to the 
 impulses of the heart, the natural, human im- 
 pulses. A man can beat down the stone walls of 
 a fort, scale the impregnable heights of a citadel, 
 master the earth and the seas, but he can not sur- 
 mount the invisible barriers which he himself 
 erected in the past ages the quality of birth. 
 Ah! if only she had been a peasant, unlettered 
 and unknown, and free to be won ! The tasks of 
 Hercules were then but play to him ! 
 
 Next she led him through the aisles of potted 
 plants in the conservatory. She was very learned-
 
 THE riJPPET CROWN 255 
 
 She explained the origin of each flower, its native 
 soil, the time and manner of its transportation. 
 Perhaps she was surprised at his lack of botan- 
 ical knowledge, he asked so many questions. But 
 it was not the flowers, it was her voice, which 
 urged him to these interrogations. 
 
 They were on the point of re-entering the re- 
 ception chamber, when the jingle of a spur on the 
 mosaic floor caused them to turn. Maurice could 
 not control the start; he had forgotten all about 
 Beauvais. The soldier wore the regulation full 
 dress of the cuirassiers, white trousers, tucked into 
 patent leather half-boots, a gray jacket with gold 
 lace and decorations, red saber straps and a gray 
 pelisse hanging from the left shoulder. A splen- 
 did soldier, Maurice grudgingly admitted. What 
 would the Colonel say? The situation was humor- 
 ous rather than otherwise, and Maurice smiled. 
 
 "I was looking for your Highness," said Beau- 
 vais, as he came up, "to pay my respects. I am 
 leaving." His glance at Maurice was one of po- 
 lite curiosity. 
 
 "Colonel Beauvais," said the princess, coldly, 
 "Monsieur Carcwe, of the American Legation in 
 Vienna." 
 
 She was not looking at the Colonel, but Mau- 
 rice was, and the Colonel's total lack of surprise 
 astonished him. The gaze of the two men plunged 
 into each other's eyes like flashes of lightning, but 
 that was all. 
 
 "I am charmed," said the Colonel, a half-iron- 
 ical smile under his mustache. "Your name is 
 not unfamiliar to me."
 
 256 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "No?" said Maurice,, with studied politeness. 
 
 "No. It is connected with an exploit. Was it 
 not you who faced the students this afternoon and 
 rescued her Highness's dog?" 
 
 "Ah!" said Maurice, in a tone which implied 
 that exploits were every day events with him; "it 
 was but a simple thing to do. The students were 
 like so many sheep." 
 
 The princess elevated her brows; she felt an 
 undercurrent of something which she did not un- 
 derstand. Indeed, she did not like the manner 
 in which the two men eyed each other. Her glance 
 passed from the stalwart soldier to the slim, ath- 
 letic form of the civilian. 
 
 Conversation drifted aimlessly. Maurice had the 
 malice to cast the brunt of it on the Colonel's 
 shoulders. The princess, like a rose coming 
 in contact with a chill air, drew within her- 
 self. She was cold, brief, and serenely indiffer- 
 ent. It was evident to Maurice that she had re- 
 sumed her royal mantle, and that she had shown 
 him unusual consideration. 
 
 Presently she raised her hand to her head, as 
 sometimes one will do unconsciously, and the 
 rose slipped from her hair and dropped to the 
 floor. Both men stooped. Maurice was quickest. 
 With a bow he offered to return it. 
 
 "You may keep it, Monsieur ;" and she laughed. 
 
 They joined her. Maurice knew why the 
 Colonel laughed, and the Colonel knew why Mau- 
 rice laughed; but neither could account for the 
 laughter of the princess. That was her secret.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 257 
 
 All things come to an end, even diplomatic re- 
 ceptions. Soon the guests began to leave. 
 
 Said the princess to Maurice: "Your invitation 
 is a standing one, Monsieur. To our friends there 
 are no formalities. Good night; ah, yes, the Eng- 
 lish fashion," extending her hand, which Maurice 
 barely touched. "Good night, Monsieur," to Beau- 
 vais, with one of those nods which wither as ef- 
 fectually as frost. 
 
 The Colonel bent gracefully. 
 
 "Decidedly the Colonel is not in high favor to- 
 night," thought Maurice; "a fact which is emi- 
 nently satisfactory to me. Ah; he looks as if he 
 had something to say to me. Let us wait." 
 
 "Monsieur, have you any other engagement thia 
 evening?" asked Beauvais, swinging his pelisse 
 over both shoulders. "If not, my rooms are quite 
 handy. I have capital cigars and cognacs. Will 
 you do me the honor ? I should like to have you 
 regale me with some Vienna gossip; it is so long 
 since I was there." 
 
 "Thanks," said Maurice. "I shall be happy to 
 smoke your cigars and drink your cognacs." He 
 was in the mood for any adventure, comic or se- 
 rious. He had an idea what the Colonel wanted 
 to say to him, and he was not unwilling to listen. 
 Besides, he had no fear; he now wore an amulet 
 close to his heart. 
 
 "Come, then," said Beauvais, gaily; and the two 
 made off. "It is a wonderful game of chess, this 
 world of ours." 
 
 "Yes," said Maurice, "we do keep moving."
 
 258 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "And every now and then one or the other of 
 us steps out into the dark." 
 
 "So we do." Maurice glanced from the corner 
 of his eye and calculated his chances in a physical 
 contest with the Colonel. The soldier was taller 
 and broader, but it was possible for him to make 
 good this deficiency with quickness. But, above 
 all, where and under what circumstances had he 
 met this man before? 
 
 "Here we are!" cried the Colonel, presently. 
 
 He led Maurice into one of the handsome 
 dwellings which faced the palace confines from the 
 east. They passed up the stairs into a large room, 
 Oriental in its appointments, and evidently the 
 living room. The walls were hung with the para- 
 phernalia of a soldier, together with portraits of 
 opera singers, horses and celebrities of all classes. 
 On the mantel Maurice saw, among other things, 
 the glint of a revolver barrel. He thought noth- 
 ing of it then. It occurred to him as singular, how- 
 ever, that the room was free from central obstruc- 
 tion. Had the Colonel expected to meet him at 
 the archbishop's and anticipated his acceptance of 
 a possible invitation? 
 
 Two chairs stood on either side of the grate. 
 Between them was an octagon on which were cigars, 
 glasses and two cognac bottles. The Colonel's valet 
 came in and lit the tapers in the chandelier and 
 woke up the fire. . . . Maurice was convinced 
 that the Colonel had arranged the room thus for his 
 especial benefit, and he regretted his eagerness for 
 adventure. 
 
 "Franqois," said Beauvais, throwing his sh.-ikn
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 259 
 
 and pelisse on the lounge and motioning to Mau- 
 rice to do likewise, "let no one disturb us." 
 
 The valet bowed and noiselessly retired. The 
 two men sat down without speaking. Beauvais 
 passed the cigars. Maurice selected one, lit it, 
 and blew rings at the Chinese mandarin which 
 leered down at him from the mantel. 
 
 Several minutes marched into the past. 
 
 "Maurice Carewe," said the Colonel, as one who 
 mused. 
 
 "It is very droll," said Maurice. 
 
 "I can not say that it strikes me as droll, though 
 I am not deficient in the sense of humor." 
 
 " 'Twould be a pity if you were ; you would miss 
 so much. Through humor philosophy reaches its 
 culmination ; humor is the foundation upon which 
 the palace of reason erects itself. The two are in- 
 separable." 
 
 "How came you to be mixed up in this affair, 
 which is no concern of yours?" 
 
 "That question is respectfully referred to 
 Madame the duchess. I was thrown into it, head 
 foremost, bound hand and foot. It was a clever 
 stroke, though eventually it will embarrass her." 
 
 "You may give me the certificates," said Beau- 
 vais. 
 
 Maurice contemplated him serenely. "Impossi- 
 ble," with a fillip at the end of his cigar. 
 
 "You refuse?" coldly. 
 
 "I do not refuse. Simply, I haven't got them." 
 
 "What!" The Colonel half sprang from his 
 chair. 
 
 His astonishment was genuine ; Maurice saw
 
 260 T X HE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 that it was, and he reflected. Madame nor Fitz- 
 gerald had been dishonest with him. 
 
 "No. Some one has forestalled me." 
 
 "Are you lying to me?" menacingly. 
 
 "And if I were?" coolly. 
 
 Beauvais measured his antagonist, his eyes hard 
 and contemptuous. 
 
 "I repeat," said Maurice, "the situation is ex- 
 ceedingly droll. I am not afraid of you, not a bit. 
 I am not a man to be intimidated. You might 
 have inferred as much by my willingness to accom- 
 pany you here. I am alone with you." 
 
 "It is true that you are alone with me," in a 
 voice, which, though it did not alarm Maurice, 
 caused him to rest less comfortably in his chair. 
 "In the first place, you know too much." 
 
 "The knowledge was rot of my own seeking. 
 You will agree with me in that." He took a swal- 
 low of the cognac. "However, since I am in the 
 affair" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I'll see it to its end." 
 
 "Perhaps. We shall not cross purposes. When 
 men plot as I do, they stop at nothing, not even at 
 that infinitesimal minutiae called the spark of life. 
 It becomes a matter of self-preservation. I am in 
 too deep water; I must keep on. I can not now 
 turn back; the first shore is too far away." 
 
 "Even villainy has its inconveniences," Maurice 
 observed. 
 
 "What do you call villainy?" 
 
 "An act in which a man accepts pay from one 
 to ruin him for another. That is villainy, with-
 
 THE PUPPET CEOWN 261 
 
 out a single saving grace, for you are a native 
 neither of the kingdom nor the duchy." 
 
 "That is plain language. You do not take into 
 consideration the villain's motives. There may be 
 certain ends necessary as his life's blood, which 
 may be gained only by villainy, which, after all, 
 is a hard name for political conspiracy." 
 
 "Oh, I do not suppose you are worse than the 
 majority. But it appeals to me as rather a small, 
 unmanly game when your victims are a man who 
 is dying and a girl who knows nothing of the world 
 nor its treachery." 
 
 An almost imperceptible smile passed over Beau- 
 vais's countenance. "So her Highness has captured 
 your sympathies?" with a shade of banter. 
 
 "I admit that; she would capture the sympathies 
 of any man who has a good pair of eyes in his head. 
 But you do not seem to be in favor just at pres- 
 ent," banter for banter. 
 
 The Colonel studied the end of his cigar. "What 
 is to be your stand in this affair?" 
 
 "Neutral as possible, for the simple reason that 
 I have passed my word to Madame; compulsorily, 
 it is true; I shall abide by it. That is not to say 
 that my sympathies are not wholly with the Osians. 
 Madame is a brilliant woman, resourceful, initia- 
 tive; she has as many sides as a cut diamond; 
 moreover, her cause is just. But I do not like the 
 way she has gone about the recovery of her throne. 
 She has broken, or will break, a fine honest heart; 
 she tried to break another, but, not being above the 
 pantry maid, the subject of her attention failed to 
 appreciate the consideration."
 
 262 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 Beauvais laughed at this. "You are very good 
 company. Let me advise you to remain neutral. 
 I wish you no harm. But if you change your mind 
 and stand in my path " 
 
 "Well, and if I stood in your path?" 
 
 "Pouf! you would vanish. 0, I should not 
 stoop to murder; that is a vulgar word and prac- 
 tice. I should place a sword in your hand and give 
 you the preference of a gentleman's death. I see 
 nothing to prevent me from carrying out that this 
 very night," with a nod toward the rapiers which 
 hung from the opposite wall. 
 
 "You might be surprised at the result," said 
 Maurice, stretching his legs. "But at present I 
 have no desire to quarrel with you, or to put your 
 skill to a test. Once Madame gives me back my 
 word, why, I do not say." He dipped his hand 
 toward the ash-pan. "Human nature is full of 
 freaks. A man will commit all sorts of crimes, yet 
 stand by his word. Xot that I have committed any 
 crimes against the ten commandments." 
 
 And so they fenced. 
 
 "You picked up a rose to-night," said the Colonel. 
 
 "So I did." Maurice blew a puif of smoke into 
 the chimneyplace and watched it sail upward and 
 vanish. "Moreover, I propose to keep it. Have 
 you any objections?" 
 
 "Only this: her Highness intended the rose for 
 me." 
 
 "No, no, my friend," easily. "She would not 
 have laughed had you picked it up." 
 
 "That is to say I lie?" 
 
 "It is," laconically.
 
 THE PUPPET GROWN 263 
 
 There was no eluding a statement so bald as this. 
 Beauvais sat upright. "To call me a liar is a 
 privilege which I extend to no man." 
 
 "I did not call you a liar," undisturbed. "You 
 wrote it down yourself, and I simply agreed to it. 
 A duel? Well, I shall not fight you. Dueling is 
 obsolete, and it never demonstrated the right or 
 wrong of a cause. Since my part in this affair is 
 one of neutrality, and since to gain that knowledge 
 was the object of your invitation, I will take my 
 leave of you." 
 
 He rose and looked at the porcelain clock. 
 As he did so his gaze rested on a small photo- 
 graph standing at the side of it. He scanned 
 it eagerly. It was a face of dark Castilian beauty. 
 He turned and looked at Beauvais long and 
 earnestly. There was an answering gaze, an im- 
 mobility of countenance. Maurice experienced a 
 slight shock. The haze over his memory was dis- 
 persed. The whole scene, in which this man loomed 
 in the foreground, came back vividly. 
 
 "Your stare, Monsieur, is annoying." 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder," replied Maurice, leaning 
 against the mantel. 
 
 "Do me the honor to explain it." 
 
 Maurice, never dreaming of the trap, fell head 
 foremost into it. "I have traveled a good deal," he 
 began. "I have been even to South America." 
 
 "Ah!" This ejaculation expressed nothing. In 
 fact, Beauvais was smiling. There was a sinister 
 something behind that smile, but Maurice was un- 
 observant. 
 
 He went on. "Yes, to South America. I was
 
 THE PUPPET CBOWN 
 
 there in a diplomatic capacity, during one of the 
 many revolutions. This country was the paradise 
 of adventurers, the riff-raff of continental social 
 outcasts. I distinctly remember the leader of this 
 revolution. Up to the very last day, Captain 
 Urquijo was the confidential friend of the presi- 
 dent whom he was about to ruin. Through the 
 president's beautiful daughter Urquijo picked up 
 his threads and laid his powder trains. The woman 
 loved him as women sometimes love rascals. The 
 president was to be assassinated and his rival in- 
 stalled. Captain Urquijo was to be made General 
 of the armies. 
 
 "One fine day the troops lined both sides 
 of the plaza, the square about which lay the 
 government buildings. It was the event of some 
 celebration; I believe the throwing off of the yoke 
 of Spain. The city flocked into the plaza. 
 Strangely enough, those who were disaffected the 
 soldiers under Urquijo faced the loyal troops. 
 By a preconceived plan, the artillery was under 
 the command of Urquijo. Suddenly this Captain's 
 murderous and traitorous guns swept the plaza, 
 mangling women and children. There was a flaw, 
 however, in the stroke. Urquijo fled, a reward 
 posted for his head mind you, his head; they did 
 not want him alive. 
 
 "The daughter expiates her foolish love in 
 a convent. Her disgrace proved too much 
 for her father, who blew out his brains. The 
 successor secured extradition papers in all the 
 loading capitals of the world. The story was 
 the sensation of the day; the newspapers made
 
 THE PUPPET CEOWN 265 
 
 much of it. All governments offered to assist the 
 republic in hounding down this rascal. To what- 
 ever country he belonged, that country promised 
 to disown him." 
 
 Maurice took the photograph and cast it 
 into Beauvais' s lap. "Do you recognize that face? 
 Is it not a mute accusation to your warped 
 conscience?'' The voice, changing from the mono- 
 tone of narrative, grew strong and contemptuous. 
 "I know you. I recognized you the moment I laid 
 eyes on you, only I could not place you. Perhaps 
 it was because it did not seem possible that you 
 would dare show your face to civilized people. That 
 photograph has done its work. By the Lord, but 
 you're a fine rascal ! Not a bit changed. Have 
 you forgotten your Spanish? As God hears me, I 
 shall hold you up." 
 
 "You are a very young man," said Beauvais, ris- 
 ing. He was still smiling. "Do you know why 
 I asked you here? For this very reason. Madame 
 divined you well. She said that you had a dash 
 of what romanticists call valor, but that you never 
 saw an inch before your nose. I knew that you 
 would be at the archbishop's; I knew that you 
 would follow me to this room. Indeed, you might 
 have suspected as much by the unusual arrange- 
 ment of the fixtures of the room. I placed that 
 photograph there, trusting to your rather acute 
 eyesight. 
 
 "My memory seems to be better than yours. I 
 knew you the first time I saw you in Bleiberg. I 
 was waiting only to see how much you had re- 
 membered. I am not Colonel Beauvais; I am not
 
 266 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 Urquijo; I am the last of a noble Austrian house, 
 in exile, but on the eve of recall. Your knowledge 
 would, of course, be disastrous to my ambitions. 
 That is why I wanted to find out how much you 
 know. You know too much, too much by half; 
 and since you have walked into the lion's den, you 
 shall never leave it alive." With this he sprang 
 to the wall and tore down the rapiers, one of 
 which he flung at Maurice's feet. 
 
 Maurice felt the hand of paralysis on his nerves. 
 He looked at the rapier, then at Beauvais, dazed 
 and incapable of movement. It had been so sud- 
 den. 
 
 "And when they find you in some alley in the 
 lower town they will put it down to thieves. You 
 are young and thoughtless," Beauvais went on banter- 
 ingly. "A little discretion and you might have 
 gone with a whole skin. We never forget a 
 woman's face, and I knew that you would not for- 
 get hers. Don't trouble yourself about leaping 
 through the windows: the fall will kill you less 
 effectually than I shall." 
 
 Maurice pulled himself together. The prospect 
 of death brought back lucidity of mind. He at 
 once saw the hopelessness of his position. He 
 cursed his lack of forethought. He became pale 
 and furious, but his head cleared. His life hung 
 in the balance. He now translated BeauvaisV 
 smile. 
 
 "So you wish to add another to the list ?" he said. 
 
 "To shield one crime, a man must commit many 
 others. 0, this will not be murder. It will be a 
 duel, in which you will have no chance. Pick up
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 267 
 
 the sword, if only for form's sake." Beauvais 
 caught the wrist thong of the rapier between his 
 teeth and rapidly divested himself of his jacket and 
 saber straps. With his back toward the door, he 
 rolled up his sleeve and discovered a formidable 
 forearm. He tried the blade and thrust several 
 times into the air. 
 
 "What promise have I," said Maurice, "that you 
 will not run me through when I stoop for the 
 sword?" This question did not serve. 
 
 Beauvais laughed. "I never get angry in mo- 
 ments like these. I am giving you a sword to ease 
 my conscience. I do not assassinate boys." 
 "But supposing I should kill you by chance?" 
 Beauvais laughed again. "That is not possible." 
 Maurice had faced death before, but with more 
 confidence. The thought that he had poked his 
 head into a trap stirred him disagreeably. He saw 
 that Beauvais possessed a superabundance of con- 
 fidence, and confidence is half of any battle. He 
 picked up the sword and held it between his knees, 
 while he threw off his coat and vest, and unbut- 
 toned his collar and cuffs. What he had to sell 
 would be sold as dearly as possible. He tested the 
 blade, took in a deep breath, fell easily into posi- 
 tion and waited.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 SOME PASSAGES AT ARMS 
 
 There comes a moment to every man, who faces 
 an imminent danger, when the mental vision 
 expands and he sees beyond. By this transient gift 
 of prescience he knows what the end will be, 
 whether he is to live or die. As Maurice looked 
 into the merciless eyes of his enemy, a dim knowl- 
 edge came to him that this was to be an event 
 and not a catastrophe, a fragment of a picture yet 
 to be fully drawn. His confidence and courage 
 returned. He thanked God, however, that the light 
 above equalized their positions, and that the 
 shadows were behind them. 
 
 The swords came together with a click light but 
 ominous. Immediately Beauvais stepped back, 
 suddenly threw forward his body, and delivered 
 three rapid thrusts. Maurice met them firmly, giv- 
 ing none. 
 
 "Ah!" cried Beauvais; "that is good. You know 
 a little. There will be sport, besides." 
 
 Maurice shut his lips the tighter, and worked 
 
 purely on the defensive. His fencing master had 
 
 taught him two things, silence and watchfulness. 
 
 While Beauvais made use of his forearm, Maurice 
 
 268
 
 THE PUPPET (JKOWN 269 
 
 ai yet depended solely on his wrist. Once they 
 came together, guard to guard, neither daring to 
 break away until by mutual agreement, spoken only 
 by the eyes, both leaped backward out of reach. 
 There was no sound save the quick light stamp of 
 feet and the angry murmur of steel scraping 
 against steel. Sometimes they moved circlewise, 
 with free blades, waiting and watching. Up to now 
 Beauvais's play had been by the book, so to speak, 
 and he began to see that his opponent was well 
 read. 
 
 "Which side is the pretty rose?" seeking to dis- 
 tract Maurice. "Tell me, and I will pin it to you/' 
 Not a muscle moved in Maurice's face. 
 "It is too bad," went on Beauvais, "that her 
 Highness finds a lover only to lose him. You fool ! 
 I read your eyes when you picked up that rose. 
 Princesses are not for such as you. I will find her 
 a lover; it will be neither you nor Prince Fred- 
 erick ah ! you caught that nicely. But you depend 
 too much on the wrist. Presently it will tire; and 
 then pouf !" 
 
 Now and then a flame, darting from the grate, 
 sparkled on the polished steel, and. from the steel 
 it shot into the watchful eyes. A quarter of an hour 
 passed; still Maurice remained on the defensive. 
 At first Beauvais misunderstood the reason, and 
 thought Maurice did not dare run the risk of pass- 
 ing from defensive to offensive. But by and by 
 the froth of impatience crept into his veins. He 
 could not penetrate above or below that defense. 
 The man before him was of marble, with a wrist 
 of iron; he neither smiled nor spoke, there was
 
 270 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 no sign of life at all, except in the agile legs, the 
 wrist, and eyes. The Colonel decided to change his 
 tactics. 
 
 "When I have killed you," he said, "I shall 
 search your pockets, for I know that you lie when 
 you say that you have not those certificates. 
 Madame was a fool to send you. No man lives who 
 may be trusted. And what is your game? Save 
 the Osians? Small good it will do you. Her 
 Highness will wed Prince Frederick mayhap 
 and all you will get is cold thanks. And in such 
 an event, have you reckoned on Madame the duchess ? 
 War! And who will win? Madame; for she has 
 not only her own army, but mine. Come, come ! 
 Speak, for when you leave this room your voice will 
 be silent. Make use of the gift, since it is about 
 to leave you." 
 
 The reply was a sudden straightening of the 
 arm. The blade slipped in between the Colonel's 
 forearm and body, and was out again before the 
 soldier fully comprehended what had happened. 
 Maurice permitted a cold smile to soften the rig- 
 idity of his face. Beauvais saw the smile, and read 
 it. The thrust had been rendered harmless inten- 
 tionally. An inch nearer, and he had been a dead 
 man. To accomplish such a delicate piece of sword 
 play required nothing short of mastery. Beau- 
 vais experienced a disagreeable chill, which was 
 not unmixed with chagrin. The boy had held his 
 life in his hand, and had spared it. He set his 
 teeth, and let loose with a fury before which noth- 
 ing could stand; and Maurice was forced back step 
 by step until he was almost up with the wall.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 271 
 
 "You damned fool !" the Colonel snarled, "you'll 
 never get that chance again." 
 
 For the next few minutes it took all the 
 splendid defense Maurice possessed to keep the 
 spark in his body. The Colonel's sword was no 
 longer a sword, it was a flame, which circled, darted, 
 hissed and writhed. Twice Maurice felt the bite 
 of it, once in the arm and again in the thigh. 
 These were not deep, but they told him that the 
 end was but a short way off. He had no match for 
 this brilliant assault. Something must be done, 
 and that at once. He did not desire the Colonel's 
 death, and the possibility of accomplishing this 
 was now extremely doubtful. But he wanted to 
 live. Life was just beginning the rough road had 
 been left behind. He was choosing between his life 
 and the Colonel's. Beauvais, after the fashion of the 
 old masters, was playing for the throat. This up- 
 ward thrusting, when continuous, is difficult to 
 meet, and Maurice saw that sooner or later the 
 blade would rea'ch home. If not sudden death, it 
 meant speechlessness, and death as a finality. Then 
 the voice of his guardian angel spoke. 
 
 "I do not wish your life," he said, breaking the 
 silence, "but at the same time I wish to live 
 Ah !" Maurice leaped back just in time. As it 
 was, the point of his enemy's blade scratched his 
 chin. 
 
 They broke and circled. The Colonel feinted. 
 Maurice, with his elbow against his side and his 
 forearm extended, waited. Again the Colonel 
 lunged for the throat. This time, instead of meet- 
 ing it in tierce, Maurice threw his whole force
 
 272 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 forward in such a manner as to bring the steel 
 guard of his rapier full on the Colonel's point. 
 There was a ringing sound of snapping steel, and 
 the Colonel stood with nothing but a stump in his 
 grasp. 
 
 "There you are," said Maurice, a heat-flash passing 
 over him. Had he swerved a hair's breadth from 
 the line, time would have tacked finis to the 
 tale. "Now, I am perfectly willing to talk," put- 
 ting his point to the Colonel's breast. "It would 
 inconvenience me to kill you, but do not count too 
 much on that." 
 
 "Damn you !" cried the Colonel, giving way, his 
 face yellow with rage, chagrin and fear. "Kill 
 me, for I swear to God that one or the other 
 of us must die ! Damn you and your meddling 
 nose !" 
 
 "Damn away, chevalier d'industrie; damn away. 
 But live, live, live! That will be the keenest pun- 
 ishment. Live ! 0, my brave killer of boys, you 
 thought to play with me as a cat with a mouse, 
 eh? Eh, Captain Urquijo-Beauvais-and-What-is- 
 your-name?" He pressed the point here, there, 
 everywhere. "You were too confident. Pardon 
 me if I appear to brag, but I have taken lessons 
 of the best fencing masters in Europe, and three 
 times, while you devoted your talents to mono- 
 logues, I could have pinned you like one of those 
 butterflies on the wall there. Have you ever 
 heard of the sword of Damocles? Well, well; it 
 hangs over many a head to-day. I will be yours. 
 I give you forty-eight hours to arrange your per- 
 sonal affairs. If after that time you are still in
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 273 
 
 this part of the country, I shall inform the proper 
 authorities in Vienna. The republic has representa- 
 tion there. Of a noble Austrian house, on the eve 
 of recall? I think not." 
 
 Beauvais made a desperate attempt to clutch 
 the blade in his hands. 
 
 "No, no!" laughed Maurice, making rapid prods 
 which caused Beauvais to wince. "Now, back; 
 farther, farther. I do not like the idea of having 
 my back to the door." 
 
 Beauvais suddenly wheeled and dashed for the 
 mantel. But as he endeavored to lay hand on 
 the revolver Maurice brought down the blade on 
 the Colonel's knuckles, leaving a livid welt. Mau- 
 rice took possession of the weapon, while a grimace 
 of agony shot over the Colonel's face. Seeing that 
 the chambers were loaded, Maurice threw down the 
 sword. 
 
 "Well, well !" he said, cocking the weapon. 
 "And I saw it when I entered the room. It would 
 have saved a good deal of trouble." Beauvais grew 
 white. "0," Maurice continued, "I am not going 
 to shoot you. I wish merely to call your valet." 
 He aimed at the grate and pressed the trigger, 
 and the report, vibrating within the four walls, 
 was deafening. 
 
 A moment passed, and the valet, with bulging 
 eyes and blanched face, peered in. Seeing how 
 matters stood, he made as though to retreat. 
 
 Maurice leveled the smoking revolver. "Come 
 in, Francois; your master will have need of you." 
 
 Frangois complied, vertigo in his limbs. "My 
 God !" he cried, wringing his hands.
 
 274 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "Your master tried to murder me," said 
 Maurice. Frangois had heard voices like this be- 
 fore, and it conveyed to him that a fine quality 
 of anger lay close to the surface. "Take down 
 yonder window curtain cord." Frangois did so. 
 "Now bind your master's hands with it." 
 
 "Frangois/' cried the Colonel, "if you so much 
 as lay a finger on me, I'll kill you." 
 
 "Frangois, I will kill you if you don't," said 
 Maurice. 
 
 "My God !" wailed the valet, at loss which to 
 obey when to obey either meant death. His teeth 
 chattered. 
 
 "You may have all the time you want, Fran- 
 gois, to wring your hands when I am gone. Come; 
 to work. Colonel, submit. I'm in a hurry and 
 have no time to spare. While I do not desire to 
 kill you, self-preservation will force me to put a 
 bullet into your hide, which will make you art 
 inmate of the city hospital. Bind his hands be- 
 hind his back, and no more nonsense." 
 
 "Monsieur," appealmgl} r to Beauvais, "my God, 
 I am forced. He will kill me!" 
 
 "So will I," grimly; "by God, I will!" Beau- 
 vais had a plan. If he could keep Maurice long 
 enough, help might arrive. And he had an excel- 
 lent story to tell. Still Frangois doddered. With 
 his eye on the Colonel and the revolver sighted, 
 Maurice picked up the sword. He gave Frangois 
 a vigorous prod. Frangois needed no further in- 
 ducement. He started forward with alacrity. In 
 the wink of an eye he threw the cord around 
 Beauvais's arms and pinned them to his sides.
 
 275 
 
 Beauvais swore, but the valet was strong in his 
 fright. He struggled and wound and knotted and 
 tied, murmuring his pitiful "Mon Dieu!" the 
 while, till the Colonel was the central figure of a 
 Gordian knot. 
 
 "That will do," said Maurice. "Now, Frangois, 
 good and faithful servant, take your master over 
 1o the lounge and sit down beside him until I get 
 into my clothes. Yes; that's it." He shoved his 
 collar and tie into a pocket, slipped on his vest and 
 coat, put on his hat and slung his topcoat over 
 his arm. During these maneuvers the revolver re-' 
 mained conspicuously in sight. "Now, Frangois, 
 lead the way to the street door. By the time you 
 return to your illustrious master, who is the 
 prince or duke of something or other, pursuit will 
 be out of the question. Now, as for you/' turn- 
 ing to Beauvais, "the forty-eight hours .hold good. 
 During that time I shall go armed. Forty-eight 
 hours from now I shall inform the authorities at 
 the nearest consulate. If they catch you, that's 
 your affair. Off we go, Frangois." 
 
 "By God ! " began Beauvais, struggling to his 
 feet. 
 
 "Come so far as this door," warned Maurice, 
 "and, bound or not, I'll knock you down. Hang 
 you ! Do you think my temper will improve in 
 your immediate vicinity? Do you think for a mo- 
 ment that I do not lust for your blood as heartily 
 as you lust for mine? Go to the devil your own 
 way; you'll go fast enough!" He caught Fnni- 
 e,ois by the shoulders and pushed him into the 
 hall, followed, and closed the door. Frangois had
 
 276 THE PUPPET GROWN 
 
 been graduated from the stables, therefore his 
 courage never rose to sublime heights. All the 
 way down the stairs he lamented, and each time 
 he turned his head and saw the glitter of the re- 
 volver barrel he choked with terror. 
 
 "If you do not kill me, Monsieur, he will; he 
 will, I know he will ! My God, how did it hap- 
 pen? He will kill me!" and the voice sank into 
 a muffled sob. 
 
 Despite the gravity of the situation, Maurice 
 could not repress his laughter. "He will not harm 
 you; he threatened you merely to delay me. Open 
 the door." He stepped out into the refreshing 
 air. "By the way, tell your master not to go to 
 the trouble of having me arrested, for the first 
 thing in the morning I shall place a sealed packet 
 in the hands of the British minister, to be opened 
 if I do not call for it within twenty-four hours. 
 And say to your master that I shall keep the 
 rose." 
 
 "Mon Dieu ! A woman ! I might have known !" 
 ejaculated Frangois, as the door banged in his 
 face. 
 
 Maurice, on reaching the pavement, took to his 
 legs, for he saw three men rapidly approaching. 
 Perhaps they had heard the pistol shot. He con- 
 cluded not to wait to learn. He continued his 
 rush till he gained his room. It was two o'clock. 
 He had been in the Colonel's room nearly three 
 hours. It seemed only so many minutes. He 
 hunted for his brandy, found it and swallowed 
 several mouth fuls. Then he dropped into a chair 
 from sheer exhaustion. Eeaction laid hold of him.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN" 277 
 
 His hands shook, his legs trembled, and perspira- 
 tion rolled down his cheeks. 
 
 "By George!" This exclamation stood alone, 
 but it was an Odyssey. He remained stupefied, 
 staring at his shoes, over which his stockings had 
 fallen. His shirt buttons were gone, and the 
 bosom was guiltless of its former immaculateness. 
 After a time he became conscious of a burning 
 pain in the elbow of his right arm. He glanced 
 down at his hand, to find it covered with drying 
 blood. He jumped up and cast about his clothes. 
 One leg of his trousers was soaked, and the dull 
 ache in his thigh told the cause. He salved the 
 wounds and bound them in strips of handker- 
 chiefs, which he held in place by using some of 
 the cast-off cravats. 
 
 "That was about as close to death as a man 
 can get and pull out. I feel as if I had swal- 
 lowed that cursed blade of his. I am an ass, 
 sure enough. I've always a bad cold when there's 
 a rat about; can't smell him. And the rascal re- 
 membered me ! Will he stay in spite of my 
 threat? I'll hang on here till to-morrow. If he 
 stays I won't. He has the devil's own of a 
 sword. Hang it, my nerves are all gone to 
 smash." 
 
 Soon some gentler thought took hold, and he 
 smiled tenderly. He brought forth the rose, turned 
 it this way and that, studied it, stroked it, held 
 it to his lips as a lover holds the hand of the 
 woman he loves. Her rose; somehow his heart 
 told him that she had laughed because Beauvais 
 had stooped in vain.
 
 278 THE PUPPET CEOWK 
 
 "Ah, Maurice," he said, "you are growing over 
 fond. But why not? Who will know? To have 
 loved is something." 
 
 He crept into bed, but sleep refused him its 
 offices, and he tossed about in troubled dreams. 
 He fought all kinds of duels with all sorts of 
 weapons. He was killed a half dozen times, but 
 the archbishop always gave him something which 
 rekindled the vital spark. A thousand Beauvaises 
 raged at him. A thousand princesses were ever 
 in the background, waiting to be saved. He swore 
 to kill these Beauvaises, and after many fruitless 
 endeavors, he succeeded in smothering them in their 
 gray pelisses. Then he woke, as dreamers always 
 wake when they pass some great dream-crisis, and 
 found himself in a deadly struggle with a pillow 
 and a bed-post. He laughed and sprang out of 
 bed. 
 
 "It's no use, I can't sleep. I am an old woman." 
 
 So he lit his pipe and sat dreaming with his 
 eyes open, smoking and smoking, until the sickly 
 pallor of dawn appeared in the sky, and he knew 
 that day had come.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A MINOR CHORD AND A CHANGE OF MOVEMENT 
 
 Marshal Kampf, wrapt in his military cloak, with 
 the peak of his cap drawn over his eyes, sat on 
 one of the rustic benches in the archbishop's gar- 
 dens and reflected. The archbishop had announced 
 an informal levee, the first since the king's illness. 
 He had impressed the Marshal with the fact that 
 his presence was both urgent and necessary. Dis- 
 turbed as he was by the unusual command, the 
 Marshal had arrived an hour too early. Since the 
 prelate would not rise until nine, the Marshal told 
 the valet that he would wait in the gardens. 
 
 An informal levee, he mused. What was the 
 meaning of it ? Had that master of craft and silence 
 found a breach in the enemy's fortifications? He 
 rubbed the chill from his nose, crossed and re- 
 crossed his legs and teetered till the spurs on his 
 boots set up a tuneful jingle. 
 
 So far as he himself was concerned, he was not 
 worried. The prelate knew his views and knew 
 that he would stand or fall with them. He had 
 never looked for benefits, as did those around him. 
 He had offered what he had without hope of re- 
 ward, because he had considered it his duty. And, 
 279
 
 280 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 after all, what had the Osian done that he should 
 be driven to this ignominious end? His motives 
 never could be questioned; each act had been in 
 some way for the country's good. Every king is 
 a usurper to those who oppose him. 
 
 Would the kingdom be bettered in having a 
 queen against whom the confederation itself was 
 opposed? Would it not be adding a twofold bur- 
 den to the one? The kingdom was at peace with 
 those countries from which it had most to fear. 
 Was it wise to antagonize them? Small independ- 
 ent states were independent only by courtesy. 
 Again, why had Austria contrived to place an alien 
 on the throne, in face of popular sentiment? 
 Would Austria's interests have been less safe in the 
 advent of rightful succession? Up to now, what 
 had Austria gained by ignoring the true house? 
 Outwardly nothing, but below the surface? Who 
 could answer? 
 
 For eleven years he had tried to discover the 
 secret purpose of Austria, but, like others, he had 
 failed; and the Austrian minister was less decipher- 
 able than the "Chinese puzzle." He was positive 
 that none of the arch-conspirators knew; they were 
 blinded by self-interest. And the archbishop ? The 
 Marshal rubbed his nose again, not, however^ be- 
 cause it was cold. Did any one know what was 
 going on behind the smiling mask which the reti- 
 cent prelate showed to the world? The Marshal 
 poked his chin above his collar, and the wrinkles 
 fell away from his gray eyes. 
 
 The sky was clear and brilliant, and a tonic 
 from the forests sweetened the rushing air. The
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 281 
 
 lake was ruffled out of its usual calm, and rolled 
 and galloped along the distant shores and flashed 
 on the golden sands. Above the patches of red and 
 brown and yellow the hills and mountains stood 
 out in bold, decided lines. 
 
 Water fowl swept along the marshes. The doves 
 in twos and threes fluttered down to the path, 
 strutted about in their peculiarly awkward fashion, 
 and doubtfully eyed the silent gray figure on the 
 bench, as if to question his right to be there this 
 time of the morning, their trysting hour. Pres- 
 ently the whole flock .came down, and began cooing 
 and waltzing at the Marshal's feet. He soon discov- 
 ered the cause. 
 
 Her Royal Highness was coming through the 
 opening in the hedgerow which separated the two 
 confines. She carried a basket on her arm, and 
 the bulldog followed at her heels, holding his in- 
 jured leg in the air, and limping on the remain- 
 ing three. At the sight of her the doves rose and 
 circled above her head. She smiled and threw into 
 the air handful after handful of cake and bread 
 crumbs. In their eagerness the doves alighted on 
 her shoulders, on the rim of the basket, and even 
 on the broad back of the dog, who was too sober 
 to give attention to this seeming indignity. He 
 kept his eye on his mistress's skirts, moved when 
 she moved, and stopped when she stopped. A gray- 
 white cloud enveloped them. 
 
 The Marshal, with a curious sensation in his 
 heart, observed this exquisite, living picture. He 
 was childless; and though he was by nature un- 
 demonstrative, he was very fond of this youth.
 
 282 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 Her cheeks were scarlet, her rosy lips were parted 
 in excitement, and her eyes glistened with pleasure. 
 With all her twenty years, she was but ten in fancy ; 
 a woman, yet a child, unlettered in worldly wit, 
 wise in her love of nature. Xot until she had 
 thrown away the last of the crumbs did she notice 
 the Marshal. He rose and bowed. 
 
 "Good morning, your Highness. I am very much 
 interested in your court. And do you hold it 
 every morning?" 
 
 "Even when it rains," she said, smiling. "I 
 am so glad to see you; I wanted to talk to you 
 last night, but I could not find the opportunity. 
 Let me share the bench with you." 
 
 And youth and age sat down together. The 
 bulldog planted himself in the middle of the path 
 and blinked at his sworn enemy. The Marshal 
 had no love for him, and he was well aware of 
 it; at present, an armistice. 
 
 The princess gazed at the rollicking waters, at 
 her doves, thence into the inquiring gray eyes of 
 the old soldier. 
 
 "Do you remember," she said, "how I used to 
 climb on your knees, ever so long ago, and listen 
 to your fairy stories?" 
 
 "Eh ! And is it possible that your Highness re- 
 members?" wrinkles of delight gathering in his 
 cheeks. "But why 'ever so long ago' ? It was 
 but yesterday. And your Highness remembers!" 
 . "I am like my father; I never forget!" She 
 looked toward the waters again. "I can recall only 
 one story. It was about a princess who lost all 
 her friends through the offices of a wicked fairy.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 283 
 
 I iv mem bo r n because it was the only story you 
 iold me that had a sad ending. It was one of 
 Andersen's. Her father and mother died, and the 
 moment she was left alone her enemies set to 
 work and toppled over her throne. She was cast 
 out into the world, having no friend but a dog; 
 but the dog always found something to eat, and 
 protected her from giants and robbers and wolves. 
 
 "Many a time I thought of her, and cried because 
 she was so unhappy. Well, she traveled from place 
 to place, footsore and weary, but in her own coun- 
 try no one dared aid her, for fear of displeasing 
 the wicked fairy, who at this time was all power- 
 ful. So she entered a strange land, where some 
 peasants took her in, clothed and fed her, and 
 gave her a staff and a flock of geese to tend. And 
 day after day she guarded the flock, telling her 
 sorrows to the dog, how she missed the dear ones 
 and the home of her childhood. 
 
 "One day the reigning prince of this strange 
 land passed by while hunting, and he saw the 
 princess tending her geese. He made inquiries, and 
 when he found that the beautiful goose-girl was 
 a princess, he offered to marry her. She consented 
 to become his wife, because she was too delicate 
 to drudge. So she and her dog went to live at 
 the palace. Once she was married the dog be- 
 haved strangely, whining softly, and refusing to be 
 consoled. The prince was very kind to them both. 
 
 "Alas ! It seems that when she left her own 
 country the good fairy had lost all track of her, 
 to find her when it was too late. The dog was a 
 prince under a wicked spell, and when the spol 1 fell
 
 284 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 away the princess knew that she loved him, and 
 not her husband. She pined away and died. How 
 many times I have thought of her, poor, lonely, 
 fairy-tale princess !" 
 
 The old soldier blinked at the doves, and there 
 was a furrow between his eyes. Yes; how well he 
 remembered telling her that story. But, as she 
 repeated it, it was clothed with a strange signifi- 
 cance. Somehow, he found himself voiceless; he 
 knew not how to reply. 
 
 "Monsieur," she said suddenly, "tell me, what 
 has my poor father done that these people should 
 hate him and desire his ruin?" 
 
 "He has been kind to them, my child," his gaze 
 still riveted on the doves; "that is all. He has 
 given them beautiful parks, he has made them a 
 beautiful city. A king who thinks of his peo- 
 ple's welfare is never understood. And ignorant 
 and ungrateful people always hate those to whom 
 they are under obligations. It is the way of the 
 world." 
 
 "And and you, Marshal?" timidly. 
 
 "And I?" 
 
 "Yes. They whisper that that 0, Marshal, is 
 it you who will forsake us in our need? I have 
 heard many things of late which were not intended 
 for my ears. My father and I, we are so alone. I 
 have never known the comradeship of young 
 people; I have never had that which youth longs 
 for a confidant of my own age. The young peo- 
 ple I know serve me simply for their own ends, 
 and not because they love mo. 
 
 "I have never spoken thus before to-day, save to
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 285 
 
 this dog. He has been my confidant; but he can 
 not speak except with his kind old eyes, and he can 
 not understand as I would have him. And they 
 hate even him because they know that I love him. 
 Poor dog! 
 
 "What my father has done has always been 
 wrong in his own eyes, but he sinned for my sake, 
 and God will forgive him. He gave up the home 
 he loved for my sake. 0, that I had known and 
 understood ! I was only six. We are so alone ; 
 we have no place to go, no friends save two, and 
 they are helpless. And now I am to make a sacri- 
 fice for him to repay him for all he has done for 
 me. I have promised my hand to one I do not 
 love; even he forsakes me. But love is not the 
 portion of princesses. Love to them is a fairy 
 story. To secure my father's throne I have sacri- 
 ficed my girlhood dreams. Ah! and they were so 
 sweet and dear." 
 
 She put a hand to her throat as if something 
 had tightened there. "Marshal, I beg of you to 
 tell me the truth, the truth! Is my father dying? 
 Is he? He they will not tell me the truth. And 
 I ... never to hear his voice again ! The 
 truth, for pity's sake !" She caught at his hands 
 and strove to read his eyes. "For pity's sake!" 
 
 He drew his breath deeply. He dared not look 
 into her eyes for fear she might see the tears in 
 his; so he bent hastily and pressed her hands to 
 his lips. But in his heart he knew that his promise 
 to the dead was gone with the winds, and that he 
 would shed the last drop of blood in his withered 
 veins for the sake of this sad, lonely child.
 
 386 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 "Your father, my child, will never stand up 
 straight again," he said. "As for the rest, that is 
 in the hands of God. But I swear to you that this 
 dried-up old heart beats only for you. I will stand 
 or fall with you, in good times or bad/' And he 
 rubbed his nose more fiercely than ever. "Had I 
 a daughter But there ! I have none." 
 
 "My heart is breaking," she said, with a little 
 sob. She sank back, her head drooped to the arm 
 of the bench, and she made no effort to stem the 
 flood of tears. "I have no mother, and now my 
 father is to leave me. And I love him so, I love 
 him so ! He has sacrificed all his happiness to 
 secure mine in vain. I laugh and smile because 
 he asks me to, and all the while my heart is break- 
 ing, breaking." 
 
 At this juncture the doves rose hurriedly. The 
 Marshal discovered the archbishop's valet making 
 toward him. 
 
 "Monsieur the Marshal, Monseigneur breakfasts 
 and requests you to join him." 
 
 "Immediately;" and the Marshal rose. He 
 placed his hand on the dark head. "Keep up your 
 heart, my child," he said, "and we shall see if I 
 have grown too old for service." He squared his 
 shoulders and followed the valet, who viewed the 
 scene with a valet's usual nonchalance. When 
 the Marshal reached the steps to the side entrance, 
 he looked back. The dog had taken his place, and 
 the girl had buried her face in his neck. A mo- 
 ment later the old soldier was ushered into the 
 archbishop's presence, but neither with fear nor 
 uneasiness in his heart.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 287 
 
 "Ah ! Good morning, Marshal," said the prelate. 
 "Be seated. Did you not find it chilly in the gar- 
 dens?" 
 
 "Not the least. It is a fine day. I have just 
 left her Royal Highness." 
 
 THe prelate arched his eyebrows, and an inter- 
 rogation shot out from under them. 
 
 "Yes," answered the observant soldier. "My 
 heart has ever been hers; this time it is my hand 
 and brain." 
 
 The prelate's egg spoon remained poised in mid- 
 air ; then it dropped with a clatter into the cup ! 
 But a moment gone he had held a sword in his 
 hand; he was disarmed. 
 
 "I have promised to stand and fall with her." 
 
 "Stand and fall? Why not 'or'?" with a long, 
 steadfast gaze. 
 
 "Did I say 'and'? Well, then," stolidly, "per- 
 haps that is the word I meant to use. If I do the 
 one I shall certainly do the other." 
 
 The archbishop absently stirred his eggs. 
 
 "God is witness," said the Marshal, "I have al- 
 ways been honest." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And neutral." 
 
 "Yes; honest and neutral." 
 
 "But a man, a lonely man like myself, can not 
 always master the impulses of the heart; and I 
 have surrendered to mine." 
 
 The listener turned to some documents which 
 lay beside the cup, and idly fingered them. "I am 
 glad; I am very glad. I have always secretly ad-
 
 288 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 mired you; and to tell the truth, I have feared you 
 most of all because you are honest." 
 
 The Marshal shifted his saber around and drew 
 his knees together. "I return the compliment," 
 frankly. "I have never feared you; I have dis- 
 trusted you." 
 
 "And why distrusted?" 
 
 "Because Leopold of Osia would never have for- 
 saken his birthright, nor looked toward a throne., 
 had you not pointed the way and coveted the arch- 
 bishopric." 
 
 "I wished only to make him great;" but the pre- 
 late lowered his eyes. 
 
 "And share his greatness," was the shrewd re- 
 joinder. "I am an old man, and frankness in old 
 age is pardonable. There are numbers of disin- 
 terested men in the world, but unfortunately they 
 happen to be dead. 0, I do not blame you; there 
 is human nature in most of us. But the days of 
 Kichelieus and Mazarins are past. The Church is 
 simply the church, and is no longer the power 
 behind the throne. I have served the house of 
 Auersperg for fifty years, that is to say, since I 
 was sixteen; I had hoped to die in the service. 
 Perhaps my own reason for distrusting you has not 
 been disinterested." 
 
 "Perhaps not." 
 
 "And as I now stand I shall die neither in the 
 service of the house of Auersperg nor of Osia. It is 
 not the princess; it is the lonely girl." 
 
 "I need not tell you," said the prelate quietly, 
 "that I am in Bleiberg only for that purpose. And 
 since we are together, I will tell you this: Madame
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 289 
 
 the duchess will never sit upon this throne. To-day 
 I am practically regent, with full powers from his 
 Majesty. I have summoned von Wallenstein and 
 Mollendorf for a purpose which I shall make 
 known to you." He held up two documents, and 
 gently waving them: "These contain the dismissal 
 of both gentlemen, together with my reasons. There 
 were three; one I shall now destroy because it has 
 suddenly become void." He tore it up, turned, 
 and flung the pieces into the grate. 
 
 The Marshal glanced instinctively at his shoulder 
 straps, and saw that they had come very near to 
 oblivion. 
 
 "There is nothing more, Marshal," went on the 
 prelate. "What I had to say to you has slipped 
 my mind. Under the change of circumstances, it 
 might embarrass you to meet von Wallenstein and 
 Mollendorf. You have spoken frankly, and in 
 justice to you I will return in kind. Yes, in the 
 old days I was ambitious; but God has punished 
 me through those I love. I shall leave to you the 
 selection of a new Colonel of the cuirassiers." 
 
 "What ! and Beauvais, too ?" exclaimed the 
 Marshal. 
 
 "Yes. My plans require it. I have formed a 
 new cabinet, which will meet to-night at eight. I 
 shall expect you to be present." 
 
 The two old men rose. Suddenly, a kindly smile 
 broke through the austereness of the prelate's 
 countenance, and he thrust out his hand; the old 
 soldier met it. 
 
 "Providence always watches over the innocent,''
 
 290 
 
 said the prelate, "else we would have been still at 
 war. Good morning." 
 
 The Marshal returned home, thoughtful and 
 taciturn. What would be the end? 
 
 Ten minutes after the Marshal's departure, von 
 Wallenstein and Mollendorf entered the prelate's 
 breakfast room. 
 
 "Good morning, Messieurs," said the churchman, 
 the expression on his face losing its softness, and 
 the glint of triumph stealing into his keen eyes. 
 "I am acting on behalf of his Majesty this morn- 
 ing," presenting a document to each. "Observe 
 them carefully/' He turned and left the room. 
 The archbishop had not only eaten a breakfast, he 
 had devoured a cabinet. 
 
 Count von Wallenstein watched the retreating 
 figure of the prelate till the door closed behind it; 
 then he smiled at Mollendorf, who had not the 
 courage to return it, and who stared at the parch- 
 ment in his hand as if it were possessed of basilisk 
 eyes. 
 
 "Monseigneur," said the count, as he glanced 
 through the contents of the document, "has fore- 
 stalled me. Well, well; I do not begrudge him his 
 last card. He has played it; let us go." 
 
 "Perhaps," faltered Mollendorf, "he has played 
 his first card. What are you going to do?" 
 
 "Remain at home and wait. And I shall not 
 have long to wait. The end is near." 
 
 "Count, I tell you that the archbishop is not a 
 man to play thus unless something strong were 
 behind him. You do wrong not to fear him." 
 
 Von Wallenstein recalled the warning of the
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 291 
 
 Colonel of the cuirassiers. "Nevertheless, we are 
 too strong to fear him." 
 
 "Monseigneur is in correspondence with Aus- 
 tria," said the minister of police, quietly. 
 
 "You said nothing of this before," was the sur- 
 prised reply. 
 
 "It was only this morning that I learned it." 
 
 The count's gaze roamed about the room, and 
 finally rested on the charred slips of paper in the 
 grate. He shrugged. 
 
 "If he corresponds with Austria it is too late," 
 he said. "Come, let us go." He snapped his fin- 
 gers in the air, and Mollendorf followed him from 
 the room. 
 
 #####* 
 
 The princess still remained on the rustic bench; 
 her head was bowed, but her tears were dried. 
 
 "0, Bull," she whispered, "and you and I shall 
 soon be all alone !" 
 
 A few doves fluttered about her; the hills flamed 
 beneath the chill September sky, the waters sang 
 and laughed, but she saw not nor heard.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A CHANCE RIDE IN THE NIGHT 
 
 Maurice, who had wisely slept the larger part of 
 the day, and amused himself at solitary billiards 
 until dinner, came out on the terrace to smoke his 
 after-dinner cigar. He watched the sun as, like 
 a ball of rusted brass, it slid down behind the hills, 
 leaving the glowing embers of a smoldering day 
 on the hilltops. The vermilion deepened into 
 charred umber, and soon the west was a blackened 
 grate; another day vanished in ashes. The filmy 
 golden pallor of twilight now blurred the land- 
 scape; the wind increased with a gayer, madder, 
 keener touch ; the lake went billowing in shadows 
 of gray and black, and one by one the lamps of the 
 city sprang up, vivid as sparks from an anvil. 
 Now and again the thin, clear music of the band 
 drifted across from the park. The fountain glim- 
 mered in the Platz, the cafes began to glitter, car- 
 riages rolled hither and thither. The city had 
 taken on its colorful night. 
 
 "Well, here's another day gone," he mused, rub- 
 bing his elbow, which was yet stiff. "I am 
 anxious to know what that sinner is doing. Has 
 292
 
 THE PUPPET CROWE" 293 
 
 he pulled up stakes or has he stayed to get a whack 
 at me? I hope he's gone; he's a had Indian, and 
 if anything, he'll want my scalp in his belt before 
 he goes. Hang it ! It seems that I have poked my 
 head into every bear trap in the kingdom. I may 
 not get out of the next one. How clever I was, 
 to be sure! It all comes from loving the dra- 
 matic. I am a diplomat, but nobody woilld guess 
 it at first sight. To talk to a man as I talked to 
 him, and to threaten ! He said I was young ; I 
 was, but I grow older every day. And the wise 
 word now is, don't imitate the bull of the trestle," 
 as he recalled an American cartoon which at that 
 day was having vogue in the American colony in 
 Vienna. 
 
 "I like adventure, I know, but I'm going 
 to give the Colonel a wide berth. If he sees me 
 first, off the board I go. Where will he go to 
 the duchy? I trust not; we both can not settle in 
 that territory; it's too small. And yet I am bound 
 to go back; it is not my promise so much as it is 
 my cursed curiosity. By George !" rubbing his 
 elbow gently. "And to think, Maurice, that you 
 might not have witnessed this sunset but for a bit 
 of fencing trickery. What a turn that picture of 
 Inez gave me! I knew him in a second and like 
 the ass I was, I told him so. And to meet him 
 here, almost a left-handed king; no wonder I did 
 not recognize him. 
 
 "I should like to come in on Fitzgerald to- 
 night. His father must have had a crazy streak 
 in him somewhere. Four millions to throw 
 away; humph! And who the deuce has those
 
 294 THE PUPPET CBOWN 
 
 certificates?" He lolled against the parapet. "If 
 I had four millions, and if Prince Frederick 
 had disappeared for good. . . . Why are 
 things so jumbled up, at sixes and sevens? We 
 are all human beings; why should some be placed 
 higher than others? A prince is no better than I 
 am, and may be not half so good. 
 
 "Sometimes I like to get up high somewhere and 
 look down on every one else; every one else looks 
 so small that it's comforting. The true philosopher 
 has no desire; he sits down and views the world 
 as if he were not a part of it. Perhaps it is best 
 so. Yes, I would like four millions and a princi- 
 pality. . . . Heigho ! how bracing the air is, 
 and what a night for a ride! I've a mind to exer- 
 cise Madame's horse. A long lone ride on the 
 opposite side of the lake, on the road to Italy ; come, 
 let's try it. Better that than mope." 
 
 He mounted to the veranda, and for the first 
 time he noticed the suppressed excitement which 
 lit the faces of those around him. Groups were 
 gathered here and there, talking, gesticulating, and 
 flourishing the evening papers. He moved toward 
 the nearest group. 
 
 "The archbishop has dismissed the cabinet 
 . . . crisis imminent." 
 
 "The Austrian minister has recalled his invita- 
 tions to the embassy ball." 
 
 "The archbishop will not be able to form another 
 cabinet." 
 
 "Count von Wallenstein . . . " 
 
 "Mollendorf and Beauvais, too "
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 295 
 
 "The king is dying . . . The archbishop has 
 been given full powers." 
 
 "The army will revolt unless Beauvais is re- 
 called." 
 
 "And the Marshal says here . . ." 
 
 Maurice waited to hear no more, but climbed 
 through the window into the office. 
 
 "By George, something has happened since last 
 night. I must have an evening paper." He found 
 one, and read an elaborate account of what had 
 taken place during the day. Von Wallenstein had 
 been relieved of the finance. Mollendorf of the 
 police, Erzberg of foreign affairs, and Beauvais of 
 his epaulettes. There remained only the arch- 
 bishop, the chancellor and the Marshal. The edi- 
 torial was virulent in its attack on the archbishop, 
 blustered and threatened, and predicted that the 
 fall of the dynasty was but a matter of a few hours. 
 For it asserted that the prelate could not form 
 another cabinet, and without a cabinet there could 
 be no government. It was not possible for the 
 archbishop to shoulder the burden alone; he must 
 reinstate the ministry or fall. 
 
 "And this is the beginning of the end," said 
 Maurice, throwing aside the paper. "What will 
 happen next? The old prelate is not a man to 
 play to the gallery. Has he found out the double 
 dealing of Beauvais? That takes a burden off 
 my shoulders unless he goes at once to the 
 duchy. But why wasn't the cabinet dismissed ages 
 ago? It is now too late. And where is Prince 
 Frederick to the rescue? There is something 
 going on, and what it is only the archbishop knows.
 
 296 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 That smile of his! How will it end? I'd like to 
 see von Mitter, who seems to be a good gossip. 
 And that poor, friendless, paralytic king! I say, 
 but it makes the blood grow warm." 
 
 He left the chair and paced the office confines. 
 Only one thing went echoing through his brain, 
 and that was he could do nothing. The sooner he 
 settled down in the attitude of a spectator the 
 better for him. Besides, he was an official in the 
 employ of a foreign country, and it would be the 
 height of indiscretion to meddle, even in a private 
 capacity. It would be to jeopardize his diplomatic 
 career, and that would be ridiculous. 
 
 A porter touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 "A letter for your Excellency." 
 
 It was from the American minister in Vienna. 
 
 "My dear Carewe : I have a service to ask of J T OU. The 
 British minister is worried over the disappearance of a 
 fellow-countryman, Lord Fitzgerald. He set out for Blei- 
 berg, leaving instructions to look him up if nothing was 
 heard of him within a week. Two weeks have gone. Know- 
 ing you to be in Bleiberg, I believed you might take the 
 trouble to look into the affair. The British ambassador 
 hints at strange things, as if he feared foul play. I shall 
 have urgent need of you by the first of October; our chanjt 
 d'affaires is to return home on account of ill-health, and 
 your appointment to that office is a matter of a few days." 
 
 Maurice whistled. "That is good news; not 
 Haine's illness, but that I have an excuse to med- 
 dle here. I'll telegraph at once. And I'll take 
 the ride besides." He went to his room and 
 buckled on* his spurs, and thoughtfully slipped his 
 revolver into a pocket. "I am not going to take 
 any chances, even in the dark." Once again in
 
 THE PUT PET CKOWN 297 
 
 the office, he stepped up to the desk and ordered 
 his horse to be brought around to the cafe en- 
 trance. 
 
 "Certainly," said the clerk. Then in low tones: 
 "There has been a curious exchange in saddles, 
 Monsieur/' 
 
 "Saddles?" 
 
 "Yes. The saddle in your stall is, curiously 
 enough, stamped with the arms of the house of 
 Auersperg. How that military saddle came into 
 the stables is more than the grooms can solve." 
 
 "0," said Maurice, with an assumption of care- 
 lessness; "that is all right. It's the saddle I ar- 
 rived on. The horse and saddle belong to Madame 
 the duchess. I have been visiting at the Eed 
 Chateau. I shall return in the morning." 
 
 "Ah," said the clerk, with a furtive smile which 
 Maurice lost; "that accounts for the mystery." 
 
 "Here are two letters that must get in to-night's 
 mails," Maurice said; "and also this telegram 
 should be sent at once." 
 
 "As Monsieur desires. Ah, I came near forget- 
 ting. There is a note for Monsieur, which came 
 this afternoon while Monsieur was asleep." 
 
 The envelope was unstamped, and the scrawl was 
 unfamiliar to Maurice. On opening it he was sur- 
 prised to find a hurriedly written note from Fitz- 
 gerald. In all probability it had been brought by 
 the midnight courier on his return from the duchy. 
 
 "In God's name, Maurice, why do you linger? To-mor- 
 row morning those consols must be here or they will be 
 useless. Hasten ; you know what it means to me. 
 
 FITZGERALD."
 
 398 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 Maurice perused it twice, and pulled at his lips. 
 "Madame becomes impatient. Poor devil. Some- 
 body is likely to become suddenly rich and some- 
 body correspondingly poor. What will they say 
 when I return empty-handed ? Like as not Madame 
 will accuse me and Fitzgerald will believe her ! 
 . . . The archbishop ! That accounts for this 
 bold move. And how the deuce did he get hold of 
 them? I give up/' And his shoulders settled in 
 resignation. 
 
 He passed down into the cafe, from there to his 
 horse, which a groom was holding at the curb. He 
 swung into the saddle and tossed a coin to the 
 man, who touched his cap. 
 
 The early moon lifted its silvery bulk above the 
 ragged east, and the patches of clouds which 
 swarmed over the face of that white world of silence 
 resembled so many rooks. Far away, at the farth- 
 ermost shore of the lake, whenever the moon went 
 free from the clouds, Maurice could see the slim 
 gray line of the road which stretched toward Italy. 
 
 "It's a fine night," he mused, glancing heaven- 
 ward. The horse answered the touch of the spurs, 
 and cantered away, glad enough to exchange the 
 close air of the stables for this fresh gift of the 
 night. Maurice guided him around the palaces 
 into the avenue, which derived its name from the 
 founder of the opera, in which most of the diplo- 
 matic families lived. Past the residence of 
 Beauvais he went, and, gazing up at the lightless 
 windows, a cold of short duration seiz:d his spine. 
 It had been a hair's breadth betwixt him and death. 
 "Your room, Colonel, is better than you company;
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 299 
 
 and hereafter I shall endeavor to avoid both. I 
 shall feel that cursed blade of yours for weeks to 
 come." 
 
 Carriages rolled past him. A gay throng in 
 evening dress was crowding into the opera. The 
 huge placard announced, "Norma Mile. Lenor- 
 mand Royal Opera Troupe." How he would have 
 liked to hear it, with Lenormand in the title role. 
 He laughed as he recalled the episodes in Vienna 
 which were associated with this queen of song. He 
 waved his hand as the opera house sank in the dis- 
 tance. "Au revoir, C6leste, ma charmante; adieu." 
 By and by he reached the deserted part of the city, 
 and in less than a quarter of an hour branched off 
 into the broad road bordering the lake. The horse 
 quickened his gait as he felt the stone of the streets 
 no longer beneath his feet, which now fell with 
 muffled rhythm on the sound earth. Maurice shared 
 with him the delight of the open country, and 
 began to talk to the animal. 
 
 "A fine night, eh, old boy? I've ridden many 
 backs, but none easier than yours. This air is what 
 gives the blood its color. Too bad; you ought not 
 to belong to Madame. She will never think as 
 much of you as I should." 
 
 The city was falling away behind, and a yellow 
 vapor rose over it. The lake tumbled in moonshine. 
 Maurice took to dreaming again hope and a 
 thousand stars, love and a thousand dreams. 
 
 "God knows I love her; but what's the use? We 
 can not all have what we want; let us make the 
 best of what we have. Philosophy is a comfort only 
 to old age. Why should youth bother to reason
 
 300 THE rUPPET C TJ W X 
 
 why? And I I have not yet outgrown youth. I 
 believed I had, but I have not. I did not dream 
 she existed, and now she is more to me than any- 
 thing else in the world. Why; I wonder why? 1 
 look into a pair of brown eyes, and am seized with 
 madness. I hope. For what ? 0, Bucephalus ! let 
 us try to wake and leave the dream behind. The 
 gratitude of a princess and a dog . . . and 
 for this a rose. Well, it will prove the substance 
 of many a pipe, many a kindly pipe. You miss a 
 good deal, Bucephalus; smoking is an evil habit 
 only to those who have not learned to smoke." 
 
 The animal replied with a low whinney, and 
 Maurice, believing that the horse had given an ear 
 to his monologue, laughed. But he flattered him- 
 self. The horse whinneyed because he inhaled the 
 faint odor of his kind. He drew down on the rein 
 and settled into a swinging trot, which to Maurice'- 
 surprise was faster and easier than the canter. 
 They covered a mile this way, when Maurice's rov- 
 ing eye discovered moving shadows, perhaps half a 
 mile in advance. 
 
 "Hello ! we're not the only ones jogging along. 
 Eh, what's that?" Something flashed brightly. 
 like silver reflecting moonlight; then came a spark 
 of flame, which died immediately, am' laler 
 Maurice caught an echo which resembled the 
 bursting of a leaf against the lips. "Come: that 
 looks like a pistol shot." 
 
 Again the flash of silver, broader and clearer 
 this time; and Maurice could now separate the 
 shadow-shapes. A carriage of some sort rolled from 
 side to side, and two smaller shadows followed i\?
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 301 
 
 wild flight. One two three times Maurice sa\v 
 the sparks and heard the faint reports. He became 
 excited. Something extraordinary was taking place 
 on the lonely road. Suddenly the top of the car- 
 riage replied with spiteful flashes of red. Then 
 the moon came out from behind the clouds, and 
 the picture was vividly outlined. Two continuous 
 flashes of silver. . . . Cuirassiers! Maurice 
 loosened the rein, and the horse went forward as 
 smoothly as a sail. The distance grew visibly less. 
 The carriage opened fire again, and Maurice heard 
 the sinister m-m-m of a bullet winging past him. 
 
 "The wrong man may get hit, Bucephalus," he 
 said, bending to the neck of the horse; "which is 
 not unusual. You're pulling them down, old boy; 
 keep it up. There's trouble ahead, and since the 
 cuirassiers are for. the king, we'll stand by the 
 cuirassiers." 
 
 On they flew, nearer and nearer, until the 
 pistol shots were no longer echoes. Two other 
 horsemen came into view, in advance of the 
 carriage. Five minutes more of this exciting 
 chase, and the faces took on lines and grew into 
 features. Up, up crept the gallant little horse, his 
 hoofs rattling against the road like snares on a 
 drum. When within a dozen rods, Maurice saw 
 one of the cuirassiers turn and level a revolver at 
 him. Fortunately the horse swerved, and the ball 
 went wide. 
 
 "Don't shoot!" Maurice yelled; "don't shoot!" 
 
 The face he saw was von Mitter's. His heart 
 (.-logged in his throat, not at the danger which
 
 302 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 threatened him, but at the thought of what that car- 
 riage might contain. 
 
 A short time passed, during which nothing was 
 heard but the striking of galloping hoofs and the 
 rumble of the carriage. Maurice soon drew abreast 
 of von Mitter. There was a gash on the latter's 
 cheek, and the blood from it dripped on his cuirass. 
 
 "Close for you, my friend," he gasped, when he 
 recognized the new arrival. "Have you God! my 
 leg that time," with a groan. 
 
 For the fire of the carriage had spoken again, 
 and true. 
 
 Maurice shut his teeth, drew his revolver, cocked 
 it and applied the spurs. With a bound he shot 
 past von Mitter, who was cursing deeply and trying 
 to reload. Maurice did not propose to waste 
 powder on the driver, but was determined to bring 
 down one of the carriage horses, which were mar- 
 velous brutes for speed. Scharfenstein kept pop- 
 ping away at the driver, but without apparent 
 result. Finally Maurice secured the desired range. 
 He raised the revolver, rested the barrel between 
 the left thumb and forefinger and pressed the trig- 
 ger. The nearest carriage horse lurched to his 
 knees, a bullet in his brain, dragging his mate with 
 him. The race had come to an end. 
 
 At once the two horsemen in front separated; 
 one continued toward the great forest, while the 
 other took to the hills. Scharfenstein started in pur- 
 suit of the latter. As for the carriage, it came to an 
 abrupt stand. The driver made a flying leap 
 toward the lake, but stumbled and fell, and before 
 he could regain his feet Maurice was off his horse
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 303 
 
 i . . 
 
 and on his quarry. He caught the fellow by the 
 throat and pressed him to the earth, kneeling on 
 his chest. 
 
 "Hold him !" cried von Mitter, coming up with 
 a limp, "hold him till I knock in his head, damn 
 him !" 
 
 "No, no!" said Maurice, "you can't get informa- 
 tion out of a dead man/' 
 
 "It's all up with me," groaned the Lieutenant. 
 "I'll ask for my discharge. I could hit nothing, 
 my hand trembled. I was afraid of shooting into 
 the carriage." 
 
 Maurice turned his attention to the man beneath 
 him. "Now, you devil," he cried, "a clean breast 
 of it, or off the board you go. !" suddenly peer- 
 ing down. "By the Lord, so it is you you you !" 
 savagely bumping the fellow's head against the 
 earth. "Spy !" 
 
 "You are killing me !" 
 
 "Small matter. Who is this fellow?" asked 
 Maurice. 
 
 "Johann Kopf, a spy, a police rat, and God knows 
 what else," answered von Mitter, limping toward 
 the carriage. "Curse the leg !" He forced the door 
 and peered inside. "Fainted ! I thought as much." 
 He lifted the inanimate bundle which lay huddled 
 in between the seats and carried it to the side of 
 the road, where he tenderly laid it. He rubbed the 
 girl's wrists, unmindful of the blood which fell 
 from his face and left dark stains on her dress. 
 "Thank God," heartily, "that her Eoyal Highness 
 was suffering from a headache. She would have 
 died from fright."
 
 304 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 Maurice felt the straining cords in the prisoner's 
 neck grow limp. The rascal had fainted. 
 
 "Not her Highness?" Maurice asked, the weight 
 of dread lifting from his heart. 
 
 "No. Her Eoyal Highness sent Camille, her 
 *naid of honor, veiled and dressed like herself, to 
 play an innocent jest on her old nurse. Some one 
 shall account for this; for they mistook Camille 
 for her Highness. I'm going to wade out into the 
 water," von Mitter added, staggering to his feet. 
 
 "You'll never get off your boot," said Maurice. 
 
 "I'll cut it off," was the reply, "I shall faint if 
 I do not cool off the leg. The ball is somewhere 
 in the calf." And he waded out into the water until 
 it reached above his knees. Thus he stood for a 
 moment, then returned to the maid, who, on open- 
 ing her eyes, screamed. "It is all over, Camille," 
 said the Lieutenant, throwing an arm about her. 
 
 "Your face is bleeding!" she cried, and sank 
 back with her head against his broad breast. 
 
 As Maurice gazed at the pair he sighed. There 
 were no obstacles here. 
 
 Soon Scharfenstein came loping down the hill 
 alone. 
 
 "I killed his horse," he said, in response to 
 queries, "but he fled into the woods where I could 
 not follow. A bad night for us, Carl, a bad night," 
 swinging off his horse. "A boy would have done 
 better work. Whom have we here?" 
 
 "Kopf," said Maurice, "and he has a ball some- 
 where inside," holding up a bloody hand. 
 
 "Kopf?" Scharfenstein cocked his revolver. 
 
 The maid of honor placed her hands over her
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 305 
 
 ears and screamed again. Max gazed at her, and, 
 with a short, Homeric laugh, lowered the revolver. 
 
 "Any time will do," he said. "Ah, he opens his 
 eyes." 
 
 The prisoner's eyes rolled wildly ahout. That 
 frowning face above him . . . was it a vision? 
 Who was it ? What was he doing here ? 
 
 "Who put you up to this?" demanded Maurice. 
 
 "You are choking me!" 
 
 "Who, I say?" 
 
 "Beauvais." 
 
 Scharfenstein and von Mitter looked at each 
 other comprehensively. 
 
 "Who is this Beauvais? Speak!" 
 
 "I am dying, Herr . . . Your knees " 
 
 Maurice withdrew his knees. "Beauvais; who 
 is he?" 
 
 "Prince . . . Walmoden, formerly of the 
 emperor's staff." 
 
 Johann's eyes closed again, and his head fell to 
 one side. 
 
 "He looks as if he were done for," said Maurice, 
 standing up. "Let us clear up the rubbish and 
 hitch a horse to the carriage. The mate 's all right." 
 
 Von Mitter assisted the maid into the carriage 
 and seated her. 
 
 "Go and stay with her," said Maurice, brusquely; 
 "you're half fainting." 
 
 "You are very handy, Carewe," said von Mitter 
 gratefully, and he climbed in beside the maid, who, 
 her fright gone, gave way to womanly instincts. 
 She took her kerchief and wiped the Lieutenant's 
 cheek, pressing his hand in hers the while.
 
 306 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 Maurice and Scharfenstein worked away at the 
 traces, and dragged the dead horse to the side of 
 the road. Scharfenstein brought around von Mit- 
 ter's horse, took off the furnishings, and backed 
 him into the pole. 
 
 Meanwhile the man lying by the water's edge 
 showed signs of returning life. He turned his head 
 cautiously. His enemies were a dozen yards away 
 from him. Slowly he rolled over on his stomach, 
 thence to his knees. They were paying no atten- 
 tion to him. . . . 
 
 "Ho, there ! the prisoner !" cried von Mitter, 
 tumbling out of the carriage. He tried to stand 
 up, but a numbness seized his legs, and he sank to 
 a sitting posture. 
 
 Maurice and Scharfenstein turned too late. 
 Johann had mounted on Scharfenstein's horse, and 
 was flying away down the road. Maurice coolly 
 leveled his revolver and sent two bullets after him. 
 The second one caused Johann to straighten stiffly, 
 then to sink; but he hung on to the horse. 
 
 "Hurry!" cried Maurice; "I've hit him and we'll 
 find him along the road somewhere." 
 
 They lifted von Mitter into the carriage, wheeled 
 it about, and Scharfenstein mounted the box. 
 Maurice sprang into his saddle, and they clattered 
 off toward the city.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE LAST STAND OF A BAD SERVANT 
 
 The cuirassiers stationed in the guardroom of 
 the royal palace walked gently on the tiling, when 
 occasion required them to walk, and when they en- 
 tered or left the room, they were particularly care- 
 ful to avoid the chink of the spur or the clank 
 of the saber. Although the royal bedchamber was 
 many doors removed, the Captain had issued a 
 warning against any unnecessary noise. A loud 
 laugh, or the falling of a saber carelessly rested, 
 drew upon 'the unlucky offender the scowling eyes 
 of the commander, who reclined in front of the 
 medieval fireplace, in which a solitary log burned, 
 and brooded over past and present. The high 
 revels in the guardroom were no more, the cui- 
 rassiers were no longer made up of the young 
 nobles of the kingdom; they were now merely 
 watch dogs. 
 
 Twenty years ago the commander had come from 
 Dresden as an instructor in arms, and after the 
 first year had watched over the royal house- 
 hold, in the service of the late king and the king 
 who lay dying. He had come of good family, but 
 others had come of better, and had carried off 
 307
 
 308 THE PUPPET C R (MY X 
 
 court honors, though his post in early days hail 
 been envied by many. He was above all else 
 a soldier, the embodiment of patience and integ- 
 rity, and he scorned to murmur because fortune 
 had passed over his head. As he sucked at hi* 
 pipe, he recalled the days of Albrecht and his opera 
 singers, the court scandals, and his own constant 
 employment as messenger in the king's love in- 
 trigues. 
 
 Albrecht had died a widower and childless, 
 and with him had died the flower of court 
 life. The courtiers and sycophants had flocked to 
 the standard of the duke, and had remained there, 
 primarily because Leopold of Osia promised a 
 sedate and exemplary life. Sometimes the Captain 
 shook his head, as if communing with some un- 
 pleasant thought. On each side of him sat a sol- 
 dier, also smoking and ruminating. 
 
 At the mess table a dozen or sa whiled awav 
 the time at cards. The wavering lights of the 
 candle and hearth cast warring shadows on the 
 wall and floor, and the gun and saber racks 
 twinkled. If the players spoke, it was in to:i"> 
 inaudible to the Captain's ears. 
 
 "Our bread and butter," said the Captain softly, 
 "are likely to take unto themselves the proverbial 
 wings and fly away." 
 
 Xo one replied. The Captain was a man who 
 frequently spoke his thoughts aloud, and required 
 no one to reply to his disjointed utterances. 
 
 "A soldier of fortune," he went on, "pins his 
 faith and zeal to standards which to-day rise and
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 309 
 
 to-morrow fall. Unfortunately, he takes it at flood 
 tide, which immediately begins to ebb." 
 
 The men on either side of him nodded wisely. 
 
 "The king can no longer speak. That is why 
 the archbishop has dismissed the cabinet. Whilo 
 he could speak, his Majesty refused to listen to 
 the downfall of his enemies. Why ? Look to 
 heaven; heaven only can answer. How many men 
 of the native troops are quartered in these build- 
 ings? Not one which is bad. Formerly they 
 were in the majority. Extraordinary. His Majesty 
 would have made friends with them, but the arch- 
 bishop, an estimable man in his robes, practically 
 ostracized them. Bad, very bad. Had we been 
 comrades, there might be a different end. 
 
 "Faugh ! if one of us sticks his head into the city 
 barracks a breath of ice is our reward. Kronau 
 never attends the receptions. A little flattery, 
 which costs nothing, and they would have been 
 willing to die for his Majesty. Now " He 
 knocked his pipe on the firedog. "Now, they 
 would not lift a finger. A soldier will forgive all 
 things but premeditated neglect. 
 
 "As for me, when the time comes I shall return 
 to Dresden and die of old age. Maybe, though, I 
 shan't. When his Majesty dies there is like to be 
 a clash. The duchess is a clever woman, but she 
 would make a balky wife; a capillary affection 
 which runs in the family. Red hair in a man is 
 useful; in a woman it is unmanageable." He re- 
 filled his pipe and motioned toward the tongs. The 
 soldier nearest caught up a brand and held it ant. 
 The Captain laid his pipe against it and drew. "It's
 
 310 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 a dreary watch I have from ten til] daylight, in 
 his Majesty': ant chamber, bat he will trust no 
 other man at that post." And with this he fell 
 into silence. 
 
 Some time passed. Twice the Captain pulled out 
 his watch and looked at it. Shortly after nine 
 o'clock the beat of hoofs came up the driveway, 
 and the Captain turned his head toward the entrance 
 and waited. A moment later the door opened and 
 three men stood framed in the doorway. Two of 
 them one in civilian dress were endeavoring to 
 hold up a third between them. The central figure 
 presented an alarming picture. His cuirass and 
 white trousers were splashed with blood, and his 
 head rolled from side to side, almost insensibly. 
 
 "A thousand devils !" exclaimed the Captain at 
 the sight of this unexpected tableau. He sprang 
 up, toppling over his chair. "What's this? Von 
 Mitter? Blood? Have those damned students " 
 
 "A brush on the lake road," interrupted Sharf- 
 enstein, breathlessly. "Help him over to a chair, 
 Monsieur Carewe. That's it." 
 
 "Have you a knife, Captain?" asked Maurice. 
 
 The Captain whipped out his knife, locked it, 
 and gave it to Maurice. "Riemer," he called to 
 one of the cuirassiers, who were rising from the 
 mess table, "bring out your box of instruments; 
 and you, Scharfenstein, a basin of cold water. 
 Quick!" 
 
 Maurice knelt and deftly cut away the Lieuten- 
 ant's boot. A pool of blood collected on the floor. 
 
 "God save us!" cried the Captain, "his boot is 
 full of blood." He turned to Scharfenstein, who
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 311 
 
 was approaching with the basin. "What has hap- 
 pened, Max?" 
 
 Scharfenstein briefly explained. 
 
 "And Kopf?" 
 
 "Got away, curse him !" 
 
 "And the others?" with a lowering brow. 
 
 "They all got away," adding an oath under his 
 breath. Max set the basin on the floor. 
 
 "Bad, very bad. Why didn't you shoot?" 
 
 "He was afraid of hitting Mademoiselle Bache- 
 lier," Maurice interposed. 
 
 Max threw him a grateful look. 
 
 "Humph !" The Captain called his men around 
 him. "Two of you . But wait. Who's back of 
 Kopf?" 
 
 "Our distinguished Colonel," snapped Max, "who 
 was this day relieved "of his straps. A case of re- 
 venge, probably." 
 
 "Beauvais ! Ah, ah !" The Captain smiled 
 grimly. He had always hated Beauvais, who had, 
 for no obvious reason, passed him and grasped the 
 coveted colonelcy, and because, curiously enough, 
 the native troops had made an idol of him. 
 "Beauvais? I am not surprised. An adventurer, 
 with neither kith nor country." 
 
 "He is Prince Walmoden," said Maurice, "and 
 for some reason not known, the emperor has prom- 
 ised to recall him." 
 
 This information caused the Captain to step 
 back, and he muttered the name several times. 
 "Austria. ..." A gloom settled on his face. 
 "No matter. Prince or no prince, or had he one 
 thousand emperors behind him, no matter. Four
 
 312 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 of you seek him and arrest him. If he offers re- 
 sistance, knock him on the head, but arrest him. 
 A traitor is without name, country or respect. His 
 purpose . . . Never mind. 
 
 "Four of you seek for Kopf. Look into Stiiler's, 
 in at the opera, and follow Kopf's woman home. 
 I'll take it upon myself to telegraph the frontier 
 to allow no one to cross on the pain of being shot. 
 Pass the word to the officers in the stables. Hurry 
 away before the archbishop hears of the matter. 
 Away with you, and quietly. And one of you seek 
 that blockhead of a coachman, who did not know 
 enough to come back here and inform us. Beauvais, 
 make him a prisoner, you are not to know why. 
 As for Kopf, dead or alive alive will be less con- 
 venient for all concerned. Off with you !" 
 
 The guardroom was at once emptied, and the 
 cuirassiers turned off toward the stables, where the 
 main body of the troops was stationed. 
 
 Riemer, who was both surgeon and soldier, probed 
 the wound in von Hitter's leg and extracted the 
 bullet, which had lodged in the fleshy part of the 
 calf. He applied cold water, lints and bandages. 
 All the while von Mitter sat in the chair, his 
 eyes shut and his lips closed tightly. 
 
 "There!" said the surgeon, standing up, "that's 
 better. The loss of blood is the worst part of it.'' 
 Next he took a few stitches in the cut on the 
 cheek and threw his cloak over the wounded man's 
 knee. "He'll be all right in a day or so, though 
 he'll limp. Carl?" 
 
 "0, I'm sound enough," answered von Mitter, 
 opening his eyes. "A little weak in the knees,
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 313 
 
 that's all. I shouldn't have given in, only Kopf 
 got away when we had him fair and fast. We 
 found his horse wandering about the Frohngarten, 
 but no sign of Johann. He's got it, though, square 
 in the back." 
 
 "I'm sure of it," said Maurice, who leaned over 
 the back of the speaker's chair. 
 
 The Captain eyed him inquiringly. 
 
 "Pardon me," said Scharfenstein. "Captain, 
 Monsieur Carewe, an American tourist, formerly 
 of the United States cavalry. And a pretty shot, 
 too, by the book ! It would have gone badly with 
 us but for him." 
 
 "My thanks," said the Captain, with a jerky nod. 
 "Max, come, give me the whole story." 
 
 And Scharfenstein dropped into a chair and re- 
 counted in picturesque diction the adventure; how 
 they had remained by the royal carriage till the 
 nurse, recovering from her faint, had rushed out 
 and told them of the abduction; and the long race 
 on the south shore. While he listened the Cap- 
 tain smoked thoughtfully; and when the story was 
 done, he rose and wagged his head. 
 
 "Call it revenge," he said, "if it strikes you in 
 that light. Monsieur Carewe, what is your opin- 
 ion ?" 
 
 "It occurs to me," answered Maurice, rubbing 
 the scratch the late Colonel's sword had left on 
 his chin, "it occurs to me that the man played his 
 hand a few days too late." 
 
 "Which is to say?" 
 
 "Well, I do not call it revenue." Maurice admit- 
 ted, unwilling to venture any theory.
 
 3U THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "No more do I;" and the Captain began drum- 
 ming on the mantel. "What say, Max; how would 
 the illustrious Colonel look with the shadow of a 
 crown on his head? He comes from Austria, who, 
 to my thinking, is cognizant of all he does and 
 has done." 
 
 The answer was not spoken. The door, leading 
 to the main palace through the kitchens, opened, 
 and the Marshal, the princess, and the maid of 
 honor came down the steps. The Captain, Max and 
 the surgeon stood at salute. Maurice, however, drew 
 back into the shadows at the side of the grate. 
 The old soldier gazed down at the pale face of 
 the young Lieutenant, and smiled kindly. 
 
 "Even the best of soldiers make mistakes," he 
 said; "even the best. No," as von Mitter made 
 an attempt to speak. "I've heard all about it, and 
 from a most reliable source," nodding toward the 
 anxious maid of honor. "Colonel," he addressed 
 the Captain, whose eyes started at this appel- 
 lation, "Colonel, you will report to me in the 
 morning to assume your new duties. You have 
 been a faithful Captain and a good soldier. I 
 know your value, your name and your antecedents, 
 which till now was more than I knew of your late 
 predecessor. Von Mitter will take upon himself 
 your duties as Captain of the household troop; and 
 you, Scharfenstein, will hereafter take charge of 
 her Royal Highness's carriage, and you may choose 
 whom you will as your comrade." 
 
 "I have always tried to do my duty," said von 
 Mitter. He felt a small hand secretly press his. 
 
 "And you have always succeeded, Captain," said
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 315 
 
 a voice which made Maurice's foolish heart leap. 
 "See, I am the first to give you your new rank. 
 How you must suffer !" 
 
 "God bless your Royal Highness !" murmured the 
 fellow, at once racked with pain and happiness. 
 "But I am not the one you must thank for this 
 night's work." 
 
 The Marshal peered at the silent figure beyond 
 the fireplace. Maurice was compelled to stand 
 forth. "Ah!" said the Marshal. 
 
 "Yes," went on von Mitter, "but for him no 
 one knows what the end might have been. And 
 I, thinking him one of the abducting party com- 
 ing up from the rear, shot at him." 
 
 The princess took a step forward, anxiety widen- 
 ing her dark eyes; and the swift glance added to 
 the fever in the recipient's veins. . . . How 
 beautiful she was, and how far away! He laid his 
 hand on the top of von Mitter's chair. 
 
 "Monsieur Carewe," said the Marshal, "seems 
 to have plenty of leisure time on his hands for- 
 tunately for us. You were not hit?" 
 
 "0, no," said Maurice, blushing. He had dis- 
 cerned an undercurrent of raillery in the Marshal's 
 tones. "The ball came close to my ear, that was 
 all. It is strange how that fellow got away. I 
 am positive that I hit him." 
 
 "We shall find him," said the Marshal, with a 
 look at the newly-appointed Colonel which said: 
 "Your straps hang in the balance." He rubbed 
 his nose. "Well, is your Royal Highness satisfied 
 that there is no danger?" 
 
 "Yes, Marshal; but think, if he should have been
 
 316 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 killed! Ah, what does it all mean? What had 
 this man against me, who have always been kind 
 to him?" 
 
 "We shall, with your Highness's permission," said 
 the Marshal, "leave all questions to the future. 
 Let us return to the archbishop, who is doubt- 
 less awaiting the news. Take good care of your- 
 self, Captain. To-morrow, Colonel; good evening 
 to you, Monsieur Carewe;" and the terse old sol- 
 dier proceeded to the door and held it open for 
 the women. 
 
 "Good night, Messieurs," said her Highness. "I 
 shall not forget. Thanks to you. Captain." One 
 more glance, and she was gone. But this glance 
 blossomed in one heart into a flower of hope. 
 
 The Marshal, having closed the door behind the 
 women, returned to the group before the fireplace. 
 They watched him interestedly. 
 
 "Colonel," he said, "make no effort to seek 
 Beauvais. As for Kopf, that is different. But 
 Beauvais " 
 
 "To let him go?" exclaimed the Colonel in dis- 
 may. 
 
 "Aye, to let him go. We do not seek bears 
 with birdshot, and that is all we have. He will 
 leave the country." 
 
 "And go to the duchy!" 
 
 "So much the better; when the time conies, our 
 case against him will be so much the stronger. 
 Mind you, this is not from sentiment. I have 
 none," glaring around to see if any dared refute 
 this assertion. "It is policy, and Monseigneur con- 
 curs with me."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 317 
 
 "But I have sent men after him !" cried the 
 Colonel, in keen disappointment. 
 
 "Send men after them to rescind the order." 
 
 "And if they should catch him?" 
 
 "Let him go; that is my order. The servant 
 will be sufficient for our needs. Monsieur Carewe, 
 I rely on your discretion;" and the Marshal passed 
 into the kitchens. 
 
 The men looked at each other in silence. A 
 moment later the Colonel dashed from the room, 
 off to the stables. 
 
 "Well, I'm off," said Maurice. The desire to 
 tell what he knew was beginning to master him. 
 It was too late now, he saw that. Besides, 
 they might take it into their heads to detain him. 
 He put on his hat. "Good night; and good luck 
 to your leg, Captain." 
 
 "Till to-morrow," said von Mitter, who had 
 taken a fancy to the smooth-faced young Amer- 
 ican, who seemed at home in all places. 
 
 "I am going away to-morrow," said Maurice, 
 pressing the Lieutenant's hand. "I shall return in 
 a day or so." 
 
 He led his horse to the hotel stables, lit a fresh 
 cigar and promenaded the terrace. "Some day," 
 he mused, "perhaps I'll be able to do something 
 for myself. To-morrow we'll take a look at 
 Fitzgerald's affairs, like the good fairy we are. If 
 the Colonel is there, so much the worse for one or 
 the other of us." He laughed contentedly. "Beau- 
 vais took my warning and lit out, or his hench- 
 man would never have made a botch of the ab- 
 duction. It is my opinion that Madame wanted
 
 318 THE PUPPET CHOWS 
 
 a hostage, for it is impossible to conceive that the 
 man made the attempt on his own responsibility. 
 I shall return to the duchy in a semi-official char- 
 acter as an envoy extraordinary to look into the 
 whereabouts of one Lord Fitzgerald. Devil take 
 me, but I did make a mess of it when I slapped 
 him on the shoulder that night." The princess 
 had not addressed a word to him. Why? 
 
 When the princess and her maid of honor had 
 passed through the kitchens into the princess's 
 boudoir, the maid suddenly caught her mistress's 
 hand and imprinted a hasty kiss on it, to the lat- 
 ter's surprise and agitation. There was something 
 in that kiss which came nearer to sincere affection 
 than Mademoiselle Bachelier had ever shown be- 
 fore. 
 
 "Camille?" 
 
 "God bless your Highness !'' whispered the girl, 
 again pressing the cold hand to her lips. What 
 had given rise to this new-born affection she her- 
 self could not say, but a sudden wave of pity- 
 rushed into her heart. Perhaps it was because she 
 loved and was loved that caused this expansion 
 of heart toward her mistress, who was likely never 
 to love or beget love, who stood so lonely. Tears 
 came into her eyes. 
 
 "You are hysterical !" said the princess. 
 
 "No; it is because because " She stopped 
 and a blush suffused her face and temples. 
 
 The princess took the face between her hands 
 and gazed long and earnestly into it. "Have you 
 discovered a belated pity in your heart for me?
 
 THE PUPPET CR'OWN 319 
 
 Or is it because you thought him wounded unto 
 death, and he was not?" 
 
 "It is both !" weeping. 
 
 The princess put her arms around the maid. 
 "And you weep for happiness? Let us weep to- 
 gether, then; only I can not weep for happi- 
 ness." 
 
 To return to the flight of Kopf. As he dashed 
 down the road he heard two reports. At the sec- 
 ond he experienced a terrible burning blow under 
 the right shoulder-blade, and immediately his arm 
 became paralyzed. He -coughed. With a supreme 
 effort he managed to recover his balance. Already 
 his collar-bone had been cracked by a bullet either 
 from von Mitter or from Scharfenstein. 
 
 "God's curse on them all !" he sobbed, pushing 
 his knees into his horse; "God's curse!" He bit 
 his lips; and when he drew his breath the pain 
 which followed almost robbed him of his senses. 
 Behind him the sound of hoofs came no nearer; 
 he had a chance. He could not look back to see 
 if he gained, however, as his neck was stiffening. 
 
 "Curse him and his damned gold ! He never 
 warned me as he said he would." On he rode. 
 The moon became obscured, and when it flashed 
 again he could see it but indistinctly. ... To 
 reach the city, to reach Gertrude's, to give the 
 horse a cut and send him adrift, this was his en- 
 deavor. But would he reach the city alive? 
 Was he dying? He could not see ... Yet 
 again he shut his jaws and drew on his entire 
 strength. He was keeping in the saddle by will 
 power alone. If the horse faltered he was lost.
 
 320 T H E P U P P E T GROWN 
 
 To Gertrude; she could use them. And after all 
 he loved her. If he died she would be provided 
 for. 
 
 The first of the city lamps. He sobbed. Into 
 this street he turned, into that, expecting 
 each moment to be challenged, for the white 
 saddle blanket of the cuirassiers stood out 
 conspicuously. At last he had but a corner to 
 turn. He stopped, slid from the saddle and gave 
 the animal a cut across the face. The horse reared, 
 then plunged forward at a wild gallop. Johann 
 staggered along the street, fumbling in his pockets 
 for his keys. 
 
 Gertrude of the opera company was usually in 
 the ballet. To-night she had left the stage after 
 the first dance. She had complained of a severe 
 headache, and as the manager knew her worth 
 he had permitted her withdrawal from the corps. 
 She lived off the Frohngarten, in an apartment 
 on the second floor, over a cheap restaurant. She 
 was bathing her temples in perfumed ammonia 
 water, when she heard footsteps in the corridor, 
 and later the rasp of a key in the lock. As the 
 door opened she beheld a spectacle which caused 
 her to scream. 
 
 "Hush! Gertrude, I am dying. . . . Brandy! 
 I must talk to you ! Silence !" Johann tottered to 
 a lounge and dropped on his side. 
 
 The woman, still trembling with fright and 
 terror, poured into her palm some of the pungent 
 liquid with which she had been bathing her tem- 
 ples, and held it under his nose. It revived him.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 321 
 
 And in a few broken sentences he made known 
 to her what had happened. 
 
 "Gertrude, I am lost!" He breathed with dif- 
 ficulty. "I have lived like a rascal, and I die like 
 one. But I have always loved you; I have always 
 been true to you; I have never beaten nor robbed 
 you." His eyes closed. 
 
 "0 God," she cried, "what shall I do? Johann, 
 you must not die ! Wo will leave the country to- 
 gether. Johann, you do not speak! Johann!" She 
 kissed him, pressed him in her arms, regardless of 
 the stains which these frantic fondlings gathered 
 from his breast. "Johann !" 
 
 "Rich," he said dreamily; "rich . . . and 
 to die like a dog !" 
 
 She left him and rushed to the sideboard, poured 
 out a tumbler of brandy, and returned to his side. 
 She raised his head, but he swallowed with effort. 
 
 "In the lungs," he said. "God! how it burns! 
 Rich; we are rich, Gertrude; a hundred thousand 
 crowns. . . . And I am dying! 
 What a failure ! Curse them all ; they never of- 
 fered to lend a hand unless it led toward hell ! Ger- 
 trude ... I must tell you. Here; here, put 
 your hand in this pocket; yes. Draw them out. 
 . . . . A hundred thousand crowns!" 
 
 The woman shuddered. Her hand and what it 
 held were wet with blood. 
 
 "Hide them!" And Johann fainted away for 
 the second time. When he came to his senses, sev- 
 eral minutes had passed. Quickly, with what re- 
 maining strength he had, he unfolded his plan. 
 
 And her one idea was to save him. She
 
 322 THE PUPPET C II W X 
 
 drenched her handkerchief with the ammonia, and 
 bade him hold it to his nose, while she fetched a 
 basin of water and a sponge. Tenderly she drew 
 back his coat and washed the blood from his 
 throat and lips, and moistened his hair. 
 
 "Listen !" he cried suddenly, rising on his elbow. 
 "It is they ! They have found me ! Quick ! to 
 the roof!" He struggled to his feet, with that 
 strength which imparts itself to dying men, super- 
 human while it lasts. He threw one arm around 
 her neck. "Help me!" 
 
 And thus they gained the hall, mounted the 
 flight to the roof, he groaning and urging, she sob- 
 bing, hysterical, and frenzied. She climbed the 
 ladder with him, threw back the trap, and helped 
 him on the roof. 
 
 "Now leave me I" he said, kissing her hand. 
 
 She gave him her lips, and went down to her 
 rooms, and waited and waited. This agony 
 of suspense lasted a quarter of an hour, when again 
 came the clatter of hoofs. Would this, too, prove 
 a false alarm? She held her hand to her ear. 
 If he were dying. . . . They had stopped ; they 
 were mounting the stairs; God, they were beating 
 on the door ! 
 
 "Open!" cried a voice without; "open ir, the 
 king's name!" 
 
 She gasped, but words would not come. She 
 clenched her hands until the nails sank into the 
 flesh. 
 
 "Open, Madame, or down comes the door." 
 
 The actress in her came to the rescue. The calm 
 of despair took possession of her.
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 323 
 
 "In a moment, Messieurs," she said. Her voice 
 was without agitation. She opened the door and 
 the cuirassiers pushed past her. "In heaven's 
 name, Messieurs, what does this mean?" 
 
 "We want Johann Kopf," was the answer, 
 ''and we have it from good authority that he 
 is here. Do not interfere with us; you are in no 
 wise connected with the affair." 
 
 "He is not here," she replied. She wondered at 
 herself, her tones were so even, her mind was so 
 clear. 
 
 One of the cuirassiers caught up her gown. 
 ''What's this, Madame?" he demanded, pointing 
 to the dark wet stains; "and this?" to her hands, 
 "and this?" to the spots on the carpet, the basin 
 and the sponge. "To the roof, men; he has gone 
 by the roof! Up with you!" 
 
 The ballet dancer held forth her hands in sup- 
 plication; life forsook her limbs; she sank. 
 
 The cuirassiers rushed to the roof. . . . 
 When they came down it was slowly and carefully. 
 What they had found on the roof was of no use to 
 them. They laid the inanimate thing on the 
 lounge, and frowned. One of the cuirassiers lifted 
 the ballet dancer and carried her into her bed- 
 room, and laid her on the bed. He had not the 
 heart to revive her. Death softens all angers; 
 even an enemy is no longer such when dead. And 
 Johann Kopf was dead.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A COURT FETE AT THE RED CHATEAU 
 
 At eight o'clock of the following evening, that is to 
 say, the nineteenth of September, Maurice mounted 
 the Thalian pass and left the kingdom in the valley 
 behind him. He was weary, dusty, lame and out 
 of humor; besides, he had a new weight on his con- 
 science. The night before he had taken the life 
 of a man. True, this had happened before, but 
 always in warfare. He had killed in a moment of 
 rage and chagrin a poor devil who was at most 
 only a puppet. There was small credit in the per- 
 formance. However, the rascal would have suf- 
 fered death in any event, his act being one of high 
 treason. 
 
 In the long ride he had made up his mind to 
 lock away forever the silly dream, the tender, 
 futile, silly dream. All men die with secrets 
 locked in their hearts; thus he, too, would die. 
 His fancy leaped across the chasm of intervening 
 years to the day of his death, and the thought was 
 a happy one ! He smiled sadly, as young men 
 smile when they pity themselves. He knew that 
 he would never get over it in a day. But to- 
 morrow, or to-morrow's to-morrow . . 
 324
 
 THE PUPPET CROWX 325 
 
 He took the pass's decline; the duchy spread 
 away toward the south. A quarter of a mile below 
 him he saw the barrack and the customs office 
 which belonged to Madame the duchess. The cor- 
 poral inspected him and his papers, spoke lowly 
 to the customs inspector, who returned to his office. 
 
 "It is all right, Monsieur Carewe," said the cor- 
 poral; "I ought to recognize the horse a mile 
 away. You will arrive just in time." 
 
 "Just in time for what?" 
 
 "Ah, true. Her Highness gives a grand ball at 
 the chateau to-night. The court has arrived from 
 Brunnstadt. Some will reside at the chateau, 
 some at General Duckwitz's, others at the Countess 
 Herzberg's." 
 
 "Has the duchess arrived at last, then?" was 
 the cynical inquiry. 
 
 "She will arrive this evening," answered the 
 corporal, grinning. "A pleasant journey to you." 
 
 Maurice proceeded. "And that blockhead of 
 an Englishman has not tumbled yet ! The court 
 here? A grand ball? What else can it mean 
 but that Madame is celebrating a victory to come? 
 If the archbishop has those consols, she will wage 
 war; and this is the prelude." He jogged along. 
 He had accomplished a third of the remaining dis- 
 tance, when he was challenged. The sentry came 
 forward and scrutinized the rider. 
 
 "0, it is Monsieur Carewe!" he cried in de- 
 lighted tones. He touched his cap and fell back 
 into the shadows. 
 
 A mile farther, and the great chateau, scintil- 
 lating with lights, loomed up against the yellow
 
 326 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 sky. He felt a thrill of excitement. Doubtless 
 there would be some bright passages before the 
 night drew to a close. He would make furious 
 love to the pretty countess; it would be something 
 in the way of relaxation. How would they greet 
 him? What would be Madame's future plans in 
 regard to Fitzgerald? How would she get him 
 out of the way, now that he had served her pur- 
 pose? He laughed. 
 
 "The future promises much," he said, half 
 aloud. "I am really glad that I came back." 
 
 "Halt !" 
 
 Maurice drew up. A sentry stepped out into 
 the road. 
 
 "0, it is Monsieur Carewe!" he cried. With 
 a short laugh he disappeared. 
 
 "Hang me," grumbled Maurice as he went on, 
 "these fellows have remarkable memories. I can't 
 recollect any of them." He was mystified. 
 
 Shortly he came upon the patrol. The leader 
 ordered him to dismount, an order he obeyed will- 
 ingly, for he was longing to stand again. He 
 shook his legs, while the leader struck a match. 
 
 "Why, it is Monsieur Carewe !" he cried. "Good ! 
 We are coming out to meet you. This is a pleas- 
 ure indeed." 
 
 Maurice gazed keenly into the speaker's face, 
 and to his surprise beheld the baron whose arm 
 he had broken a fortnight since. He climbed on 
 his horse again. 
 
 "I am glad you deem it a pleasure, baron," he 
 said dryly. "From what you imply, I should judge 
 that you were expecting me."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 327 
 
 "Nothing less ! Your departure from Bleiberg 
 was known to us as early as two o'clock this after- 
 noon," answered the baron. "Permit us to es- 
 cort you to the chateau before the ladies see you. 
 'Tis a gala night ; we are all in our best bib and 
 tucker, as the English say. We believed at one 
 time that you were not going to honor us with 
 a second visit. Now to dress, both of us; at ten 
 Madame the duchess arrives with General Duck- 
 witz and Colonel Mollendorf, who is no relation 
 to the late minister of police in Bleiberg." 
 
 Underneath all this Maurice discerned a shade 
 of mockery, and it disturbed him. 
 
 "First, I should like to know " he began. 
 
 "Later, later!" cried the baron. "The gates 
 are but a dozen rods away. To your room first; 
 the rest will follow." 
 
 "The only clothes I have with -me are on my 
 back," said Maurice. 
 
 "We shall arrange that. Your guard-hussar 
 uniform has been reserved for you, at the sugges- 
 tion of the Colonel." 
 
 And Maurice grew more and more disturbed. 
 
 "Were they courteous to you on the road?" 
 
 "Yes. But" 
 
 "Patience ! Here we are at the rear gates." 
 
 Maurice found it impossible to draw back; 
 three troopers blocked the rear, the baron and an- 
 other rode at his sides, and four more were in 
 advance. The rear gates swung open, and the 
 little troop passed into the chateau confines. Mau- 
 rice snatched a glimpse of the front lawns and 
 terraces. The trees and walls were hung with
 
 328 
 
 Chinese lanterns; gay uniforms and shimmering 
 gowns flitted across his vision. Somewhere with- 
 in the chateau an orchestra was playing the over- 
 ture from "Linda di Chamounix." Indeed, with 
 all these brave officers, old men in black bedecked 
 with ribbons, handsome women in a brilliant sparkle 
 of jewels, it had the semblance of a gay court. 
 It was altogether a different scene from that 
 which was called the court of Bleiberg. There 
 was no restraint here; all was laughter, music, 
 dancing, and wines. The women were young, the 
 men were young; old age stood at one side and 
 looked on. And the charming Voiture- verse of a 
 countess, Maurice was determined to seek her 
 first of all. He vaguely wondered how Fitzger- 
 ald would carry himself throughout the ordeal. 
 
 The troopers dismounted in the courtyard. 
 
 "I'm a trifle too stiff to dance," Maurice innocent- 
 ly acknowledged. 
 
 The baron laughed. "You will have to take 
 luck with me in the stable-barrack; the chateau 
 is filled. The armory has been turned into a ball- 
 room, and the guard out of it." 
 
 "Lead on!" said Maurice. 
 
 At the entrance to the guardroom, which oc- 
 cupied the left wing of the stables, stood a Lieu- 
 tenant of the hussars. 
 
 "This is Monsieur Carewe," said the baron, 
 "who will occupy a corner in the guardroom." 
 
 "Ah! Monsieur Carewe," waving his hand cava- 
 lierly; "happy to see you again." 
 
 Maurice was growing weary of his name. 
 
 "Enter," said the baron, opening the door.
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 329 
 
 Maurice entered, but not without suspicion. 
 However, he was in a hurry to mingle with the 
 gay assembly in the chateau. But that body was 
 doomed to proceed without the honor or the 
 knowledge of his distinguished presence. Several 
 troopers were lounging about. At the sight of the 
 baron they rose. 
 
 "Messieurs," he said, "this is Monsieur Carewe, 
 who was expected." 
 
 "Glad to see you !" they sang out in chorus. 
 They bowed ironically. 
 
 Maurice gazed toward the door. As he did so 
 four pairs of arms enveloped him, and before he 
 could offer the slightest resistance, he was bound 
 hand and foot, a scarf was tied over his mouth, 
 and he was pushed most disrespectfully into a chair. 
 The baron's mouth was twisted out of shape, and 
 the troopers were smiling. 
 
 "My faith! but this is the drollest affair I ever 
 was in;" and the baron sat on the edge of the table 
 and held his sides. "Monsieur Carewe ! Ha ! ha ! You 
 are a little too stiff to dance, eh? Shall I tender 
 your excuses to the ladies ? Ass ! did you dream 
 for a moment that such canaille as you, might show 
 your countenance to any save the scullery maids? 
 Too stiff to dance ! Ye gods, but that was rich ! 
 And you had the audacity to return here ! I must 
 go; the thing is killing me." He slipped off the 
 table, red in the face and choking. "The tele- 
 graph has its uses; it oame ahead of you. Wo 
 trembled for fear you would not come ! Men, guard 
 him as your lives, while I report to Madame 
 I dare say she will make it droller in the telling."
 
 330 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 He stepped to the door, turned, looking into the 
 prisoner's glaring eyes; he doubled up again. "\Vc 
 are quits; I forgive you the broken arm; this laugh 
 will repay me. How Madame the countess will 
 laugh! And Duckwitz the General will die of 
 apoplexy ! 0, but you are a sorry ass ; and how 
 neatly we have clipped your ears!" And into the 
 corridor he went, still laughing, heartily and joy- 
 ously, as if what had taken place was one of the 
 finest jests in the world. 
 
 Maurice, white and furious, was positive that ho 
 never would laugh again. And the most painful 
 thought was that his honesty had brought him to 
 this pass or, was it his curiosity? 
 
 Fitzgerald stood alone in the library. The 
 music of a Strauss waltz came indistinctly to him. 
 He was troubled, and the speech of it lay in his 
 eyes. From time to time he drummed on the 
 window sill, and followed with his gaze the shad- 
 owy forms on the lawns. He was not a part of 
 this fairy scene. He was out of place. So many 
 young and beautiful women eying him curiously 
 confused him. In every glance he innocently read 
 his disgrace. 
 
 At Madame's request he had dressed himself in 
 the uniform of a Lieutenant-Colonel, which showed 
 how deeply he was in the toils. Though it em- 
 phasized the elegant proportions of his figure, it sat 
 uncomfortably upon him. His vanity was not 
 equal to his sense of guilt. The uniform was a
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 331 
 
 livery of dishonor. He could not distort it into 
 a virtue, try as he would. He lacked that cunning 
 artifice which a man of the world possesses, that 
 of winning over to the right a misdeed. 
 
 And Carewe, on whose honesty he would have 
 staked his life, Carewe had betrayed him. Why, 
 he could not conceive. He saw how frail his house 
 of love was. A breath and it was gone. What he 
 had until to-day deemed special favors were favors 
 common to all these military dandies. They, too, 
 could kiss Madame's hand, and he could do no more. 
 And yet she held him. Did she love him? He 
 cculd not 'tell. All he knew was that it was im- 
 possible not to love her. And to-night he witnessed 
 the culmination of the woman beautiful, and it 
 dazzled him, filled him with fears and oppressions. 
 . . . To bind her hand and foot, to carry her 
 by force to the altar, if need; to call her his in 
 spite of all. 
 
 If she were playing with him, making a ball of 
 his heart and her fancy a cup, she knew not of 
 the slumbering lion within. He himself was but 
 dimly conscious of it. Princess? That did not 
 matter. Since that morning the veil had fallen 
 from his eyes, but he had said nothing; he was 
 waiting for her to speak. Would she laugh at him ? 
 Xo, no! The knowledge that had come to him 
 had transformed wax into iron. Princess? She 
 was the woman who had promised to be his wife. 
 
 Only two candles burned on the mantel-piece. 
 The library was a room apart from the festivi- 
 ties. A soft, rose-colored darknos? pervaded the 
 room. Presently a darker shadow tiptoed over
 
 332 THE rurTET CKOWN 
 
 the threshold. He turned, and the shadow ap- 
 proached. Madame's gray eyes, full of lambent 
 fires, looked into his own. 
 
 "I was seeking you/' she said. The jewels in 
 her hair threw a kind of halo above her head. 
 
 "Have I the happiness to be necessary to you?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "You have not been enjoying yourself." 
 
 "No, Madame; my conscience is, unhappily, too 
 green." He turned to the window again for fear 
 he would lose control of himself. 
 
 "I have a confession to make to you," she said 
 humbly. How broad his shoulders were, was her 
 thought. 
 
 "It can not concern me," he replied. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "There is only one confession which I care to 
 hear. You made it once, though you are not will- 
 ing to repeat it. But I have your word, Sylvia; I 
 am content. Not all the world could make me 
 believe that you would willingly retract that 
 word." 
 
 Her name, for the first time coming from his 
 lips, caused her to start. She sent him a pene- 
 trating glance, but it broke on a face immobile as 
 marble. 
 
 "I do not recollect granting you permission 
 to use my given name," she said. 
 
 "0, that was before the world. But alone, 
 alone as we are, you and I, it is different." The 
 smile which accompanied these words was frank- 
 ness itself, but it did not deceive Madame, who
 
 i-iJU BUFFET CROWN 333 
 
 rad his eyes too well. "Ah, but the crumbs you 
 give this love of mine are so few!" 
 
 "You are the only man in the world permitted 
 to avow love to me. You have kissed my hand." 
 
 "A privilege which seems extended to all." 
 
 Madame colored, but there was not light 
 enough for him to perceive it. 
 
 "The hand you kissed is the hand of the 
 woman; others kiss it to pay homage. Monsieur, 
 forgive me for having deceived you, you were 
 so easy to deceive." 
 
 His eyes met hers steadily. 
 
 "I am not Madame simply. I am Stephonia 
 Sylvia Auersperg; the name I assumed was my 
 mother's." His lack of surprise alarmed her. 
 
 "I am well aware of that," he said. "You are 
 the duchess." 
 
 Something in his tone warned her of a crisis, 
 and she put forth her cunning to avert it. "And 
 you you will not love me less?" her voice vibrant 
 as the string of a viol. "I am a princess, but yet 
 a woman. In me there are two, the woman and 
 the princess. The princess is proud and ambi- 
 tious; to gain her ends she stops at nothing. As 
 a princess she may stoop to trickery and deceit, 
 and step back untouched. But the woman ah, 
 well; for this fortnight I have been most of all 
 the woman." 
 
 "And all this to me is a preamble to my dis- 
 missal, since my promise remains unfulfilled? 
 Madame, do not think that because fate has willed 
 that my promise should become void, that my 
 conscience acquits me of dishonor. For love of
 
 334 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 you I have thrown honor to the winds. But do 
 I regret it? No. For I am mad, and being mad, 
 I am not capable of reason. I have broken all 
 those ties which bind a man's respect to himself. 
 I have burned all bridges, but I laugh at that. It 
 is only with the knowledge that your love is mine 
 that I can hold high my head. 
 
 "As the princess in you is proud, so is the man 
 in me. A princess? That is nothing; I love you. 
 Were you the empress of all the Russias, the most 
 unapproachable woman in the world, I should not 
 hesitate to profess my love, to find some means of 
 declaring it to you. I love you. To what further 
 depths can I fall to prove it?" Again he sought 
 the window, and leaned heavily on the sill. He 
 waited, as a man waits for an expected blow. 
 
 As she listened a delicious sensation swept 
 through her heart, a sensation elusive and intan- 
 gible. She surrendered without question. At 
 this moment the Eve in her evaded all questions. 
 Here was a man. The mood which seized her 
 was as novel as this love which asked nothing but 
 love, and the willingness to pay any price; and 
 the desire to test both mood and love to their full 
 strength was irresistible. She was loved for her- 
 self alone; hitherto men had loved the woman less 
 and the princess more. To surrender to both 
 mood and love, if only for an hour or a 
 day, to see to what length this man would go at 
 a sign from her. 
 
 He was almost her equal in birth; hi? house was 
 nearly if not quite as old and honored as her o\vn : 
 in his world he stood as high as she stood in hers.
 
 335 
 
 She had never committed an indiscretion; passion 
 had never swayed her; until now she had lived 
 by calculation. As she looked at him, she knew 
 that in all her wide demesne no soldier could stand 
 before him and look straight into his eyes. So 
 deep and honest a book it was, so easily readable, 
 that she must turn to its final pages. Love him? 
 Xo. Be his wife? N"o. She recognized that it 
 was the feline instinct to play which dominated 
 her. Consequences? Therein lay the charm of it. 
 
 "Patience, Monsieur," she said. "Did I prom- 
 ise to be your wife? Did I say that I loved 
 you? Eli, bien, the woman, not the princess, 
 made those vows. I am mistress not only of my 
 duchy, but of my heart." She ceased and regard- 
 ed him with watchful eyes. He did not turn. 
 "Look at me, John !" The voice was of such 
 winning sweetness that St. Anthony himself, had 
 he heard it, must have turned. "Look at me and 
 see if I am more a princess than a woman." 
 
 He wheeled swiftly. She was leaning toward 
 him, her face was upturned. No jewel in her 
 hair was half so lustrous as her eyes. From the 
 threaded ruddy ore of her hair rose a perfume 
 like the fabulous myrrhs of Olympus. Her lips 
 were a cup of wine, and her eyes bade him drink, 
 and the taste of that wine haunted him as long 
 as he lived. He made as though to drain the 
 cup, but Madame pushed down his arms, ut- 
 tered a low, puzzled laugh, and vanished from the 
 room. He was lost! He knew it; yet he did 
 not care. He threw out his arms, dropped them, 
 and settled his shoulders. A smile, a warm, con-
 
 336 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 ttntftd smile, came into his face and dwelt there. 
 For another such kiss he would have bartered 
 eternity. 
 And Madame? Who can say?
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 IN WHICH MAURICE RECURS TO OFFENBACH 
 
 Midnight; the music had ceased, and the yel- 
 low and scarlet lanterns had been plucked from 
 the autumnal hangings. The laughing, smiling, 
 dancing women, like so many Cinderellas, had dis- 
 appeared, and with them the sparkle of jewels; 
 and the gallant officers had ridden away to the 
 jingle of bit and spur. Throughout the courtly 
 revel all faces had revealed, besides the happiness 
 and lightness of spirit, a suppressed eagerness for 
 something yet to come, an event surpassing any 
 they had yet known. 
 
 Promptly at midnight Madame herself had 
 dropped the curtains on the gay scene because she 
 had urgent need of all her military household at 
 dawn, when a picture, far different from that which 
 had just been painted, was to be limned on the 
 broad canvas of her dreams. Darkness and quiet 
 had fallen on the castle, and the gray moon film 
 lay on terrace and tiirret and tile. 
 
 In the guardroom, Maurice, his hands and feet 
 still in pressing cords, dozed in his chair. He had 
 ceased to combat drowsiness. He was worn out 
 337
 
 338 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 with his long ride, together with the chase of the 
 night before; and since a trooper had relieved 
 his mouth of the scarf so that he could breathe, 
 he cared not what the future held, if only he 
 might sleep. It took him a long time to arrive 
 at the angle of comfort; thi; accomplished, he 
 drifted into smooth waters. The troopers who 
 constituted his guard played cards at a long 
 table, in the center of which were stuck half a 
 dozen bayonets, which served as candlesticks. 
 They laughed loudly, thumped the board, and 
 sometimes sang. No one bothered himself about 
 the prisoner, who might have slept till the crack 
 of doom, as far as they were concerned. 
 
 Shortly before the new hour struck, the door 
 opened and shut. A trooper shook the sleeper by 
 the sleeve. Maurice awoke with a start and gazed 
 about, blinking his eyes. Before him he discov- 
 ered Madame the duchess, Fitzgerald and Mollen- 
 dorf, behind whom stood the Voiture-verse of a 
 countess. The languor forsook him and he pulled 
 himself together and sat as upright as his bonds 
 would permit him. Something interesting was 
 about to take place. 
 
 Madame made a gesture which the troopers com- 
 prehended, and they departed. Fitzgerald, with 
 gloomy eyes, folded his arms across his breast, and 
 with one hand curled and uncurled the drooping 
 ends of his mustache; the Colonel frowned and 
 rubbed the gray bristles on his upper lip; the 
 countess twisted and untwisted her handkerchief; 
 Madame alone evinced no agitation, unless the per- 
 pendicular line above her nose could have been
 
 339 
 
 a sign of such. This lengthened and deepened as 
 her glance met the prisoner's. 
 
 He eyed them all with an indifference which 
 was tinctured with contempt and amusement. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur Carewe," said Madame, coldly, 
 "what have you to say?" 
 
 "A number of tilings, Madame," he answered, 
 in a tone which bordered the insolent; "only they 
 would not be quite proper for you to hear." 
 
 The Colonel's hand slid from his lip over his 
 mouth; he shuffled his feet and stared at the bay- 
 onets and the grease spots on the table. 
 
 "Carewe," said Fitzgerald, endeavoring to speak 
 calmly, "you have broken your word to me as a 
 gentleman and you have lied to me." 
 
 The reply was an expressive monosyllable, "0 !" 
 
 "Do you deny it?" demanded the Englishman. 
 
 "Deny what?" asked Maurice. 
 
 "The archbishop," said Madame, "assumed the 
 aggressive last night. To be aggressive one must 
 possess strength. Monsieur, how much did he 
 pay for those consols? Come, tell me; was he 
 liberal? It is evident that you are not a man of 
 business. I should have been willing to pay as 
 much as a hundred thousand crowns. Come; ac- 
 knowledge that you have made a bad stroke." 
 She bent her head to one side, and a derisive smile 
 lifted the corners of her lips. 
 
 A dull red flooded the prisoner's cheeks. "I do 
 not understand you." 
 
 "You lie!" Fitzgerald stepped closer and his 
 hands closed menacingly. 
 
 "Thank you," said Maurice, "thank you. But
 
 340 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 why not complete the melodrama by itriking, 
 since you have doubled your fisti?" 
 
 Fitzgerald glared at him. 
 
 "Monsieur/' interposed the countess, "do not 
 forget that you are a gentleman; Monsieur Ca- 
 rewe's hands are tied." 
 
 "Unfortunately," observed Maurice. 
 
 Madame looked curiously at the countess, while 
 Fitzgerald drew back to the table and rested on it. 
 
 "I can not comprehend how you dared return," 
 Madame resumed. "One who watches over my 
 affairs has informed me of your dishonorable 
 act." 
 
 "What do you call a dishonorable act?" Mau- 
 rice inquired quietly. 
 
 "One who breaks his sacred promise!" quickly. 
 
 The prisoner laughed maliciously. Madame had 
 answered the question as he hoped she would. 
 "Chickens come home to roost. What do you say 
 to that, my lord?" to the Englishman. 
 
 This time it was not the prisoner's cheeks 
 which reddened. Even Madame was forced to 
 look away, for if this reply touched the English- 
 man it certainly touched her as deeply. Incident- 
 ally, she was asking herself why she had permit- 
 ted the Englishman to possess her lips, hers, which 
 no man save her father had ever possessed before. A 
 kiss, that was all it had been, yet the memory of 
 it was persistent, annoying, embarrassing. In 
 the spirit of play a spirit whose origin mystified 
 her she had given the man something which 
 she never could regain, a particle of her pride.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 341 
 
 Besides, this was not all ; she had in that moment 
 given up her right to laugh at him when the time 
 came; now she would not be able to laugh. She 
 regretted the folly, and bit her lip at the thought 
 of it. Consequences she had laughed at; now their 
 possibilities disturbed her. She had been guilty of 
 an indiscretion. The fact that the Englishman had 
 ruined himself at her beck did not enter her mind. 
 The hour for that had not yet arrived. 
 
 Seeing that his neat barb had left them all 
 without answer, Maurice said: "Doubtless the 
 informant who watches over your interests and 
 various other interests of which you have no ink- 
 ling, was the late Colonel Beauvais? For my part, 
 I wish it was the late Beauvais in the sense in which 
 we refer to the departed ones. But let us give 
 him his true name Prince Konrad, the last of 
 the Walmodens, a cashiered gamester." 
 
 Only Fitzgerald showed any surprise. Maurice 
 at once saw that the others were in the secret. 
 They knew the Colonel. Did they know why he 
 was in Bleiberg? Let them find it out for them- 
 selves. He would not lift a finger to aid them. 
 He leaned back and yawned. 
 
 "Pardon me," he said, with mock politeness, 
 "but my hands are tied, and the truth is, I am 
 sleepy." 
 
 "Count," said Madame, "release him. He will 
 be too well guarded to fear his escaping." 
 
 The Colonel performed this service with alacrity. 
 He honestly admired the young fellow who so sel- 
 dom lost his temper. Besides, he had a sneaking 
 idea that the lad was being unjustly accused.
 
 342 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 Maurice got up and stretched himself. He 
 rubbed his wrists, then sat down and waited foi the 
 comedy to proceed. 
 
 "So you confess," said Madame, "that you sold 
 the consols to the archbishop?" 
 
 "I, confess?" Maurice screwed up his lips and 
 began to whistle softly: 
 
 " Void le sabre de man pere." 
 
 "You deny, then?" Madame was fast losing 
 patience, a grave mistake when one is dealing with 
 a banterer. 
 
 Maurice changed the tune: 
 
 les militaires, 
 Leur uniforme coquet, 
 Leur moustache et leur plumet " 
 
 "Answer!" with a stamp of the foot. 
 
 "Je sais ce que je voudrais, 
 Je voudrais ctre cuntiniere!" . . . 
 
 "Monsieur," said the pretty countess, after a fur- 
 tive glance at Madame's stormy eyes, "do you 
 deny ?" 
 
 The whistle ceased. "Madame, to you I shall 
 say that I neither deny nor affirm. The affair is 
 altogether too ridiculous to treat seriously. I 
 have nothing to say." The whistle picked up the 
 thread again. 
 
 Doubt began to stir in the eyes of the English- 
 man. He looked at Madame with a kind of inde- 
 cision, to find that she was glancing covertly at 
 him. His gaze finally rested on Maurice, who 
 had crossed his legs and was keeping time to the
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 343 
 
 music with his foot. Indeed, these were not the 
 violent protestations of innocence he had looked 
 for. This demeanor was not at all in accord with 
 his expectations. Now that he had possessed 
 Madame's lips (though she might never possess 
 the consols), Maurice did not appear so guilty. 
 
 "Carewe," he said, "you have deceived me from 
 the start." 
 
 "Ah! c'est un fameux regiment, 
 Le regiment de la Grande Duchesse!" 
 
 "You knew that Madame was her Highness," 
 went on the Englishman, "and yet you kept that 
 a secret from me. Can you blame me if I doubt 
 you in other respects?" 
 
 "Sonnez done la trompette, 
 Et battez les tambours!" 
 
 And the warbler nodded significantly at Ma- 
 dame, whose frown grew still darker. 
 
 "Eh! Monsieur," cried the Colonel, with a pro- 
 testing hand, "you are out of tune !" 
 
 "I should like to know why you returned 
 here/' said Madame. "Either you have some plan, 
 or your audacity has no bounds." 
 
 The whistle stopped again. "Madame, for 
 once we agree. I, too, should like to know why 
 I returned here." 
 
 "Carewe," said Fitzgerald, "if you will give 
 me your word " 
 
 "Do not waste your breath, Monsieur," inter- 
 rupted Madame. 
 
 "Will you give me your word?" persisted Fit?-
 
 344 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 gerald, refusing to see the warning in Madame's 
 eyes. 
 
 "I will give you nothing, my lord; nothing. 
 I. have said that I will answer neither one way 
 nor the other. The accusation is too absurd. 
 Now, Madame, what is your pleasure in regard 
 to my disposition?" 
 
 "You are to be locked up, Monsieur," tartly. 
 "You are too inquisitive to remain at large." 
 
 "My confinement will be of short duration," 
 confidently. 
 
 "It rests with my pleasure alone." 
 
 "Pardon me if I contradict your Highness. I 
 returned here incidentally as a representative of 
 the British ambassador in Vienna; I volunteered 
 this office at the request of my own minister." 
 
 A shade of consternation came into the faces 
 of his audience. 
 
 "If nothing is heard of me within two days, an 
 investigation will ensue. It is very droll, but I 
 am here to inquire into the whereabouts of one 
 Lord Fitzgerald, who has disappeared. Tele- 
 grams to the four ends of the world have brought 
 no news of his present residence. The archbishop 
 instituted the latter inquiries, because it was urgent 
 and necessary he should know." 
 
 Fitzgerald became enveloped in gloom. 
 
 "And your credentials, Monsieur?" said the 
 duchess. "You have them, I presume?" 
 
 "I came as a private gentleman; a telegram to 
 my minister in Vienna will bring indorsement." 
 
 "Ah ! Then you shall be locked up. I can 
 not accord you recognition; without the essential
 
 THE PUPPET CEOWN 345 
 
 representations, I see nothing in you but an imper- 
 tinent meddler. To-morrow evening you shall be 
 conveyed to Brunnstadt, where you will reside 
 for some time, I can assure you. Perhaps on 
 your head will rest the blood of many gallant 
 gentlemen; for within another twenty-four hours 
 I shall declare war against Leopold. This will 
 be the consequence of your disloyalty to your 
 word." And she moved toward the door, the 
 others imitating her. Fitzgerald, more than any 
 one else, desired to get away. 
 
 And one by one they vanished. Once the count- 
 ess turned and threw Maurice a glance which mys- 
 tified him; it was half curtained with tears. 
 Presently he was alone. His eye grasped every 
 object. There was not a weapon in sight; only 
 the bayonets on the table, and he could scarcely 
 hope to escape by use of one of these. A carafe 
 of water stood on the table. He went to it and 
 half emptied it. His back was toward the door. 
 Suddenly it opened. He wheeled, expecting to 
 see the troopers. His surprise was great. Beati- 
 vais was leaning against the door, a half humorous 
 smile on his lips. The tableau lasted several min- 
 utes. 
 
 "Well," said Beauvais, "you do not seem very 
 glad to see me." 
 
 Maurice remained silent, and continued to gaze 
 at his enemy. over the tops of the upturned bay- 
 onets. 
 
 "You are, as I said before, a very young man." 
 
 "I killed a puppet of yours last night," replied 
 Maurice, with a peculiar grimness,
 
 310 T1IK PUPPET Pi OWN 
 
 "Eh? So it was you? However, Kopf knew 
 too much; he is dead, thanks to your service. 
 After all, it was a stroke of war; the princes.-, 
 whose little rose you have, was to have been a 
 hostage." 
 
 "If she had refused to be a wife/' Maurice 
 replied. 
 
 Beauvais curled his mustache. - 
 
 "I know a good deal more than Kopf." 
 
 "You do, certainly; but you are at a convenient 
 nearness. What you know will be of no use t<> 
 you. Let us sit down." 
 
 "I prefer to stand. The honor you do me is 
 too delicate." 
 
 "'0, you may have no fear." 
 
 "I have none so long as my back isn't turned 
 toward you." 
 
 Beauvais passed over this. "You arc a very 
 good blade; you handle a sword well. That is a 
 compliment, considering that 1 am held as the 
 first, blade in the kingdom. It was only to-day 
 I learned that formerly you had been a cavalry- 
 man in America. You have the making of a sol- 
 dier." 
 
 Maurice bowed, his hand resting near one of tl:e 
 bayonets. 
 
 "You are also a soldier of fortune like myself. 
 You made a good stroke with the archbishop. You 
 hoodwinked us all." 
 
 Maurice did not reply. 
 
 "Very well; we shall not dwell on it. You 
 are discreet."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 347 
 
 riaurice saw that Beauvais was speaking in 
 good faith. 
 
 "You have something to say; come to it at once, 
 for it is trying to watch you so closely." 
 
 "I will give you He hesitated and scratched 
 his chin. "I will give you ten thousand crowns 
 as the price of your silence in regard to the 'South 
 American affair." 
 
 A sardonic laugh greeted this proposal. "I did 
 not know that you were so cheap. But it is too 
 late." 
 
 "Too late?" 
 
 "Doubtless, since by this time the authorities 
 are in possession of the interesting facts." 
 
 "I beg to differ from you." 
 
 "Do as you please," said Maurice, triumphantly. 
 "I sent an account of your former exploits both 
 to my own government and to the one which you so 
 treacherously betrayed. One or the other will not 
 fail to reach." 
 
 "I am perfectly well aware of that," Beauvais 
 smiled. He reached into a pocket, and for a 
 moment Maurice expected to see a pistol come 
 forth. But he was needlessly alarmed. Beauvais 
 extracted two envelopes from the pocket and sailed 
 them through the intervening space. They fell 
 on the table. "Put not your trust in hotel clerks," 
 was the sententious observation. "At least, till 
 you have discovered that no one else employs 
 them. I am well served. The clerk was told to 
 intercept your outgoing post; and there is the evi- 
 dence. Ten thousand crowns and a safe conduct."
 
 348 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 Maurice picked up the letters mechanically. 
 They were his; the stamps were not canceled, but 
 the flaps were slit. He turned them this way and 
 that, bewildered. He was convinced that he could 
 in no way cope with this man of curious indus- 
 tries, this man who seemed to have a key for 
 every lock, and whom nothing escaped. And 
 the wise old Marshal had permitted him to leave 
 the kingdom without let or hindrance. Perhaps 
 the Marshal understood that Beauvais was a sort 
 of powder train, and that the farther he was away 
 from the mine the better for all concerned. 
 
 "You are a great rascal," Maurice said finally. 
 
 "We will waive that point. The matter at 
 present is, how much will it take to buy your 
 silence for the future?" 
 
 "And I am sorry I did not kill you when I 
 had the chance," continued Maurice, as if follow- 
 ing a train of thought. 
 
 "We never realize how great the opportunity is 
 till it has passed beyond our reach. Weil, how 
 much?" 
 
 "I am not in need of money." 
 
 "To be sure; I forgot. But the archbishop 
 could not have given you a competence for life." 
 
 "I choked a few facts out of Kopf," said Maurice. 
 "You will wear no crown that is, earthly." 
 
 "And your heavenly one is near at hand," re- 
 joined Beauvais. 
 
 Maurice absently fingered a bayonet. 
 
 "You refuse this conciliation on my part?" 
 asked Beauvais. 
 
 "Positively."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 349 
 
 "Well, then, if anything happens to you, you 
 will have only yourself to blame. I will leave 
 you to digest that suggestion. Your life hangs in 
 the balance. I will give you till to-morrow morn- 
 ing to make up your mind." 
 
 "Go to the devil!" 
 
 "In that, I shall offer you the precedence." And 
 Beauvais backed out; backed out because Maurice 
 had wrenched loose one of the bayonets. 
 
 Maurice flung the bayonet across the room, 
 went back to his chair, and tore his ill-fated let- 
 ters into ribbons. When this was done he stared 
 moodily at the impromptu candlesticks, and tried 
 to conceive the manner in which Beauvais's threat 
 would materialize. 
 
 When the troops returned to their watch, they 
 found the prisoner in a recumbent position, star- 
 ing at the cracks in the floor, oblivious to all else 
 save his thoughts, which were by no means chari- 
 table or humane. They resumed their game of 
 cards. At length Maurice fell into a light slum- 
 ber. The next time he opened his eyes it was 
 because of a peculiar jar, which continued; a 
 familiar, monotonous jar, such as the tread of 
 feet on the earth creates. Tramp, tramp, tramp; 
 it was a large body of men on the march. Soon 
 this was followed by a lighter and noisier sound 
 cavalry. Finally, there came the rumbling of 
 heavy metal artillery. More than an hour 
 passed before these varying sounds grew indistinct. 
 
 Maurice was now fully awake. An army had 
 passed the Red Chateau.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A GAME OF POKER AXD THE STAKES 
 
 The next morning Beauvais came for his answer. 
 It was not the answer he had expected. 
 
 "So be it," he replied. "Your government had 
 better appoint your successor at once. Good 
 morning." 
 
 "You will die suddenly some day," said Mau- 
 rice. 
 
 Beauvais shrugged, and departed. 
 
 It was a dreary long day for the prisoner, who 
 saw no one but his jailers. He wondered what 
 time they would start for Brimnstadt. He had 
 never seen Brunnstadt. He hoped the city would 
 interest him. Was he to be disposed of on the 
 road? Xo, that would scarcely be; there were 
 too many witnesses. In the city prison, then; 
 that was possible. The outlook was not rose- 
 colored. He set to work to challenge each of his 
 jailers, but this did not serve. At five o'clock the 
 bluff old Colonel Mollendorf came in. He dis- 
 missed the troopers, who were glad enough to be 
 relieved. 
 
 "I'll be responsible for the prisoner from now 
 on," he said. As soon as he and Maurice were 
 350
 
 THE PUPPET CEOWN 351 
 
 alone he propped his chin and contemplated the 
 sullen face of the prisoner. "Well, my son, I 
 am positive that you have been accused somewhat 
 hastily, but that's the way women have, jumping 
 at conclusions before they read the preface. But 
 you must give Madame credit for being honest in 
 the matter, as well as the others. Beauvais is posi- 
 tive that the move of the archbishop is due to 
 your selling out to him. Come, tell me the story. 
 If you wish, I'll promise not to repeat it. Ma- 
 dame is determined to lock you up in any event." 
 
 There was something so likable about the old 
 warrior that Maurice relented. 
 
 "There was nothing in the gun-barrels," he 
 said. "Some one had entered that room before me. 
 I thought at first that Beauvais had them; but 
 he is the last man in the world to dispose of 
 them to the prelate. But has the archbishop got 
 them? I wish I knew. That's all there is to 
 the story." 
 
 "And her Eoyal Highness's dog?" slyly. 
 
 "What ! Did you hear about that ?" Maurice 
 flushed. 
 
 "There is little going on in Bleiberg that we 
 don't hear about. The princess is charming. 
 Poor girl!" 
 
 "Madame's victory will have a strange odor. 
 Can she not let the king die in peace?" 
 
 "My son, she dares not. If that throne were 
 vacant of a king Let us not talk politics." 
 
 "Madame has no love for me," said Maurice. 
 
 "Madame has no love for any one, if that will 
 give you any satisfaction."
 
 352 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "It does. My lord the Englishman came near 
 striking me last night." 
 
 "I would not lay that up against him. Madame 
 was the power behind the throne." 
 
 "And the impulse behind Madame?" smiling. 
 
 "You are the only man who has ever crossed 
 Madame's path; she can not forget it." 
 
 "And she has put me in a bad light, as far 
 as Fitzgerald is concerned. A man will believe 
 anything a woman says to him, if he loves her." 
 
 "Let us avoid dissertations." 
 
 "What do you want to talk about?" 
 
 "Yourself; you are interesting, entertaining, 
 and instructive," the Colonel answered, laughing. 
 "I never ran across an American who wasn't, and 
 I have met a number. What have you done to 
 Beauvais ?" 
 
 "It is not exactly what Fve done; it is what 
 I know." 
 
 "What do you know?" 
 
 Maurice repeated the story. 
 
 "And you bested him at the rapiers?" in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 "Is there anything startling about it?" asked 
 Maurice. 
 
 "He has no match hereabout." The Colonel 
 looked across the table at the smooth-faced boy 
 he was scarcely else and reflected. "Why did 
 you give up the army?" 
 
 "The army in America doesn't run to good 
 clothes; the officers have to work harder than the 
 privates, and, save in Washington, their social 
 status is nil. Besides, there is too much fight-
 
 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 ing going on all the time. Here, an officer is 
 always on dress parade." 
 
 "Still, we are always ready. In the past we 
 show up pretty well in history. But to return to 
 Beauvais, it is very embarrassing, very." 
 
 "It will be for him, if I live long enough." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "Beauvais has promised to push me off the 
 board, to use his own words. I am wondering 
 how he will do it." 
 
 "Don't let that disturb you; he will do noth- 
 ing now. Well, well; it is all a sorry game; 
 and I find that making history has its disadvan- 
 tages. But I have dandled Madame as a child 
 on my knee, and her wish is law; wherever her 
 fortunes lead, I must follow. She will win; she 
 can not help winning. But I pity that poor devil 
 of a king, who, they say, is now bereft of speech. 
 Ah, had he been a man, I could have gone into 
 this heart and soul." 
 
 "He is on his deathbed. And his daughter, 
 God knows what is in store for her. Prince 
 Frederick is dallying with his peasant girl. The 
 day for the wedding has come and gone, unless 
 he turned up to-day, which is not likely." 
 
 "Which is not likely indeed," repeated the 
 Colonel sadly. He pulled out his pipe, and 
 smoked for a time. "But let us not judge harsh- 
 ly, says the Book. There may be circumstances 
 over which Prince Frederick has no control. I 
 suppose your sympathies are on the other side of 
 the path. Youth is always quick and generous;
 
 354 THE PUPPET CKOWX 
 
 it never stops to weigh causes or to reason why. 
 And strange, its judgment is almost always unerr- 
 ing. I am going to share my dinner with you 
 to-night. I'"ll try to brighten you up a bit." 
 
 "Thanks." 
 
 "Then after dinner we'll play poker until they 
 come to take you to Brunnstadt." 
 
 "What sort of a city is it?" 
 
 "You will not see much of it ; so I will not 
 take the trouble to tell you that it is slightly in- 
 ferior to Bleiberg." 
 
 Sure enough, when the dark of evening fell, 
 two servants entered with trays and baskets, and 
 proceeded to lay the table. They put new candles 
 in the bayonets. 
 
 "Ha !" said the Colonel ; "you have forgotten 
 the wine, rascals!" 
 
 "Bring a dozen bottles," Maurice suggested, 
 having an idea in mind. 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "Remember, Colonel, I've been a soldier and a 
 journalist in a country where they only wash with 
 water. In the summer we have whisky iced, in 
 the winter we have it hot; an antidote for both 
 heat and cold. Ah, Colonel, if you only might 
 sniff a mint julep!" 
 
 "A dozen bottles, then," said the Colonel to the 
 servants, who retired to execute the order. 
 
 "How old will it be?" asked Maurice. 
 
 "Twice your age, my son. But do not make 
 any miscalculation about my capacity for to- 
 kayer." 
 
 "Any miscalculation?" Maurice echoed.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 355 
 
 "Yes; if you plan to get me drunk. There are 
 no troopers about, and it would be easy enough 
 for you to slip out if I should lose my head." 
 
 Maurice's laugh had a false ring to it. The 
 Colonel had made a very shrewd guess. 
 
 "Well !" said the Colonel, with a gesture toward 
 the table. 
 
 They sat down, and both made an excellent din- 
 ner. Maurice demolished a roasted pheasant, 
 stuffed with chestnuts, while the Colonel disinte- 
 grated a duck. The wine came, and the servants 
 ranged six bottles on the side of each plate. It 
 was done so gravely that Maurice laughed heart- 
 ily. The wine was the oldest in Madame's cellar, 
 and Maurice wondered at the Colonel's temerity 
 in selecting it. The bottles were of thick glass, 
 flat-bottomed, and ungainly, and Maurice figured 
 that there was more than a pint in each. It 
 possessed a delicious bouquet. The Colonel emp- 
 tied three bottles, with no more effect than 
 if the wine had been water. Maurice did not 
 appreciate this feat until he had himself emptied 
 a bottle. It was then he saw that the boot was 
 likely to be on the other foot. 
 
 He looked at the Colonel enviously; the old sol- 
 dier was a gulf. He had miscalculated, indeed. 
 But he was fertile in plans, and a more reasonable 
 one occurred to him. He drank another bottle and 
 began to talk verbosely. Later he grew confidential. 
 He told the Colonel a great many things which 
 had never happened, things impossible and improb- 
 able. The Colonel listened soberly, and nodded 
 now and again. Dinner past, they pushed the re-
 
 356 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 mains aside and began to play poker, a game at 
 which the Colonel proved to be no novice, much 
 to Maurice's wonder. 
 
 "Why, you know the game as thoroughly as an 
 Arizona corporal." 
 
 "I generally spend a month of the winter in 
 Vienna. One of your compatriots taught me the 
 interesting game." The Colonel shuffled the 
 cards. "It is the great American game, so I am 
 told." 
 
 "0, they play checkers in the New England 
 states," said Maurice, hiccoughing slightly. "But 
 out west and in all the great cities poker has the 
 way." 
 
 "What have you got?" asked the Colonel, an- 
 swering a call. 
 
 "Jacks full." 
 
 "Takes the pot;" and this Americanism came 
 so naturally that Maurice roared. 
 
 "Poker is a great preliminary study to diplom- 
 acy," said the Colonel, as he scrutinized his hand. 
 "You raise it?" 
 
 "Yes. One card. Diplomacy? So it is. I 
 played a game with the Chinese ambassador in 
 Washington one night. I was teaching him how 
 to play. I lost all the ready money I had with 
 me. Next day I found out that he was the 
 shrewdest player in the diplomatic circles. Let's 
 make it a jackpot." 
 
 "All the same to me." 
 
 And the game went on. Presently Maurice 
 threw aside his coat. He was feeling the warmth 
 of the wine, but he opened another bottle.
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 357 
 
 "Is there any truth/' said the Colonel, "about 
 your shooting a man who is found cheating in 
 your country?" 
 
 "There is, if you can draw quicker than he." 
 Maurice glanced at his hand and threw it down. 
 
 "What did you have?" 
 
 "Nothing. I was trying to fill a straight." 
 
 "So was I," said the Colonel, sweeping the 
 board. "It's your deal." He unbottoned his coat. 
 
 Maurice felt a shiver of delight. Sticking out 
 of the Colonel's belt was the ebony handle of a 
 cavalry revolver, and he made up his mind to get 
 it. There were no troopers around the Colonel 
 had admitted as much. He began talking rap- 
 idly, sometimes incoherently. In a corner of the 
 room he saw the cords which had been around his 
 wrists and ankles the night before. 
 
 "Poker," said the Colonel, "depends mostly on 
 what you Americans call bluff. A bluff, as I un- 
 derstand it, is making the others think you have 
 them when you haven't, or you haven't got them 
 when you have. In one case you scare them, in 
 the other you fish. You're getting flushed, my 
 son; you'll have a headache to-night; and in an 
 hour you start." 
 
 An hour ! There was fever in Maurice's veins, 
 but it was not caused wholly by the heat of the 
 wine. How should he manage it? He must 
 have that revolver. 
 
 "Call? What have you got?" asked the Colonel. 
 
 "Three kings no, by George ! only a pair. I 
 thought a queen was a king. My head's begin-
 
 ning to get shaky. Colonel, I believe I am get- 
 ting drunk." 
 
 "I am sure of it." 
 
 Maurice got up and rolled in an extraordinary 
 fashion, but he was careful not to overdo it. He 
 began to sing. The Colonel got up, too, and he 
 was laughing. Maurice accidentally knocked over 
 some empty bottles; he kicked them about. 
 
 "Sh !" cried the Colonel, coming around the 
 table; "you'll stampede the horses." 
 
 Maurice staggered toward him, and the Colonel 
 caught him in his arms. Maurice suddenly drew 
 back, and the Colonel found himself looking into 
 the cavernous tube of his own revolver. Not a 
 muscle in his face moved. 
 
 "Take off your coat," said Maurice, quietly. 
 
 The Colonel complied. "You are not so very 
 drunk just now." 
 
 "No. It was one of those bluffs when you 
 make them think you haven't them when you 
 have." 
 
 "What next?" asked the Colonel. 
 
 "Those cords in the corner." 
 
 The Colonel picked them up, sat down and 
 gravely tied one around his ankles. Maurice 
 watched him curiously. The old fellow was 
 rather agreeable, he thought. 
 
 "Now," the Colonel inquired calmly, "how are 
 you going to tie my hands? Can you hold the 
 revolver in one hand and tie with the other?" 
 
 "Hang me!" exclaimed Maurice, finding him- 
 self brought to a halt. 
 
 "My son," said the Colonel, "you are clever. In
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWX 359 
 
 fact, you are one of those fellows who grow to be 
 great. You never miss an opportunity, and more 
 often than not you invent opportunities, which is 
 better still. The truth is, you have proceeded 
 exactly on the lines I thought you would; and 
 thereby you have saved me the trouble of lying or 
 having it out with Madame. I am a victim, not 
 an accomplice; I was forced at the point of a re- 
 volver; I had nothing to say. If I had really 
 been careless you would have accomplished the 
 feat just the same. For it was easily accom- 
 plished, you will admit. 'Tis true I knew you 
 were acting because I expected you to act. All 
 this preamble puzzles you." 
 
 Certainly Maurice's countenance expressed noth- 
 ing less than perplexity. He stepped back a few 
 paces. 
 
 "You have," continued the Colonel, "perhaps 
 three-quarters of an hour. You will be able to 
 get out of here. You will have to depend on your 
 own resources to cross the frontier." 
 
 "Would you just as soon explain to me " 
 
 "It means that a certain young lady, like my- 
 self, believes in your innocence." 
 
 "The countess?" Maurice cried eagerly, remem- 
 bering the look of the night before and the tears 
 which were in it. 
 
 "I will not mention any names. Suffice it to 
 say that it was due to her pleading that I con- 
 sented to play poker and to let you fall into my 
 arms. Come, to work," holding out his hands. 
 
 First Maurice clasped the hand and wrung it.
 
 3GO THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 "Colonel, I do not want you to get into trouble 
 on my account " 
 
 "Go along with you ! If you were really im- 
 portant/' in half a banter, "it would be altogether 
 a different matter. As it is, you are more in 
 the way than anything else, only Madame does not 
 see it in that light. Come, at my wrists, and 
 take your handkerchief and tie it over my mouth; 
 make a complete job of it while you're at it." 
 
 "But they'll wonder how I tied you " 
 
 "By the book, the boy is quite willing to sit 
 down and play poker with me till the escort comes ! 
 Don't trouble yourself about me; Madame has too 
 much need of me to give me more than a slight 
 rating. Hurry and be off, and remember that 
 Beauvais has promised to push you off the board. 
 Take the near path for the woods and strike north- 
 east. If you run into any sentries it will be your 
 own fault." 
 
 "And the army?" 
 
 "The army? Who the devil has said anything 
 about the army?" 
 
 "I heard it go past last night." 
 
 "Humph ! Keep to the right of the pass. Now, 
 quick, before my conscience speaks above a whis- 
 per." 
 
 "I should like to see the countess." 
 
 "You will if you reach Bleiberg by to-morrow 
 night." 
 
 Maurice needed no further urging, and soon 
 he had the Colonel securely bound and silenced. 
 Next he put on the Colonel's hat and coat, and 
 examined the revolver.
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 361 
 
 "It was very kind of you to load it, Colonel." 
 
 The Colonel blinked his eyes. 
 
 "Au revoir!" said Maurice, as he made for the 
 door. "Vergis mein niclit!" and he was gone. 
 
 He crept down the stairs, cautiously entered 
 the court, it was deserted. The moon was up 
 and shining. The gate was locked, hut he climbed 
 it without mishap. Not a sentry was in sight. 
 He followed the path, and swung off into the 
 forest. He was free. Here he took a breathing 
 spell. When he started onward he held the re- 
 volver ready. Woe to the sentry who blundered 
 on him ! For he was determined to cross the fron- 
 tier if there was a breath of life in him. More- 
 over, he must be in Bleiberg within twenty hours. 
 
 He was positive that Madame the duchess intend- 
 ed to steal a march, to declare war only when she 
 was within gunshot of Bleiberg. It lay with him 
 to prevent this move. His cup of wrath was full. 
 From now on he was resolved to wage war against 
 Madame on his own account. She had laughed 
 in his face. He pushed on, examining trees, hol- 
 lows and ditches. Sometimes he put his hand 
 to his ear and listened. There was no sound in 
 the great lonely forest, save for the low murmur 
 of the wind through the sprawling boughs. Shad- 
 ows danced on the forest floor. Once he turned 
 and shook his clenched fist toward the spot which 
 marked the location of the Red Chateau. He 
 thanked Providence that he was never to see it 
 again. What an adventure to tell at the clubs 
 when he once more regained his Vienna ! Would 
 he regain it?
 
 362 v THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 Why did Madame keep Fitzgerald to her strings? 
 He concluded not to bother himself with problems 
 abstract; the main object was to cross the Thalians 
 by a path of his own choosing. When he had cov- 
 ered what he thought to be a quarter of a mile, he 
 mounted a lookout. The highway was about three 
 hundred yards to the left. That was where it 
 should be. He saw no sentries, so he slid down 
 from the tree and resumed his journey. The 
 chestnuts, oaks, and firs were growing thicker and 
 denser. A dead branch cracked with a loud report 
 beneath his feet. With his heart almost in his 
 throat, he lay down and listened. A minute passed ; 
 he listened in vain for an answering noise. He got 
 up and went on. 
 
 Presently he came upon a cluster of trees which 
 was capable of affording a hiding place for three 
 or four men. He stood still and surveyed it. The 
 moon cast moving shadows on either side of it, but 
 these had no human shape. He laughed silently at 
 his fear, and as he was about to pass the cluster 
 a man stepped out from behind it, his eyes 
 gleaming and his hand extended. He was rather 
 a handsome fellow, but pale and emaciated. He 
 wore a trooper's uniform, and Maurice, swearing 
 softly, concluded that his dash for liberty had 
 come to naught. He, too, held a revolver in his 
 hand, but he dared not raise it. There was a 
 certain expression on the trooper's face which 
 precluded any arguing. 
 
 "If you move," the trooper said, in a mild 
 voice ; "if you utter a sound, I'll blow off the top 
 of your cursed head!"
 
 CHAPTEK XXIV 
 
 THE PRISONER OF THE RED CHATEAU 
 
 There the two stood, mottled in the moon- 
 shine and shadow, with wild eyes and nostrils dis- 
 tended, the one triumphant, the other raging and 
 impotent. Maurice was growing weary of for- 
 tune's discourtesies. He gazed alternately from 
 his own revolver, lying at his feet, to the one in 
 the hand of this unexpected visitant. Only two 
 miles between him and freedom, yet he must turn 
 back. The Colonel had reckoned without Madame, 
 and therefore without reason. This man had 
 probably got around in front of him when he 
 climbed the tree. He turned sullenly and started 
 to walk away, expecting to be followed. 
 
 "Halt ! Where the devil are you going ?" 
 
 "Why, back to your cursed chateau!" Maurice 
 answered surlily. 
 
 The strange trooper laughed discordantly. 
 "Back to the chateau? I think not. Now, then, 
 right about face march ! Aye, toward the fron- 
 tier; and if I have to go on alone, so much the 
 worse for you. I've knocked in one man's head; 
 if necessary, I'll blow off the top of yours. You 
 know the way back to Bleiberg, I don't; that is 
 why I want your company. Now march." 
 363
 
 364 THE PUPPET CROWtf 
 
 But Maurice did not march; he was filled with 
 curiosity. "Are you a trooper in Madame the 
 duchess's household?" he asked. 
 
 "No, curse you !" 
 
 "Who are you, then?" 
 
 "Come, come; this will not pass. No tricks; 
 you have been following me these twenty min- 
 utes." 
 
 "The deuce I have !" exclaimed Maurice, bewil- 
 dered. "To Bleiberg, is it?" 
 
 "And without loss of time. When we cross the 
 Thalians I shall be perfectly willing to parley 
 with you." 
 
 "To Bleiberg, then," said Maurice. "Since 
 that is my destination, the devil I care how I get 
 there." 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that you .are going 
 to Bleiberg?" surprise mingling with his impa- 
 tience. 
 
 "No place else." 
 
 "Are you a spy?" menacingly. 
 
 "No more than you." 
 
 "But that uniform!" 
 
 "I fancy yours looks a good deal like it," Maurice 
 replied testily. 
 
 "I confess I never saw you before, and your 
 tongue has a foreign twist," with growing doubt. 
 
 "I am sure I never saw you before, nor want 
 to see you again." 
 
 "What are you doing in that uniform?" 
 
 "You have the advantage of me; suppose you 
 begin the introduction?"
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 365 
 
 "Indeed I have the advantage of you, and pro- 
 pose to maintain it. Who are you and what are 
 you doing here ? Answer !" 
 
 There was something in the young man's as- 
 pect which convinced Maurice that it would be 
 folly to trifle. Besides, he gave to his words an 
 air which distinguishes the man who commands 
 from the man who serves. Maurice briefly ac- 
 quainted the young man with his name and posi- 
 tion. 
 
 "And you?" he asked. 
 
 "I?" The young man laughed again. It was 
 an unpleasant laugh. "Never mind who I am. 
 Let us go, we are losing time. What is the date?" 
 suddenly. 
 
 "The twentieth of September," answered Maurice. 
 
 "My God, a day too late!" The young man 
 had an attack of vertigo, and was obliged to lean 
 against a tree for support. "Are you telling me 
 the truth about yourself?" 
 
 "I am. I myself was attempting to dispense 
 with the questionable hospitality of the Red 
 Chateau good Lord!" striking his forehead. 
 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 "Are you the mysterious prisoner of the chateau, 
 the man they have been keeping at the end of 
 the east corridor on the third floor?" 
 
 "Yes. And woe to the woman who kept me 
 there! How came you there?" 
 
 Maurice, confident that something extraordinary 
 was taking place, related in synopsis his adven- 
 tures. 
 
 "And this cursed Englishman?"
 
 366 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 "Will drain a bitter cup. Madame is playing 
 with him." 
 
 "And the king; is he dead?" 
 
 "He is dying." Maurice's wonder grew. What 
 part had this strange young man in this comedy, 
 which was rapidly developing into a tragedy? 
 
 "And her Highness her Royal Highness?" eag- 
 erly clutching Maurice hy the arm; "and she?" 
 
 "She does not murmur, though both her pride 
 and her heart ao sore. She has scarcely a 
 dozen friends. Her paralytic father is the theme 
 of ribald jest; and now they laugh at her because 
 the one man who perhaps could have saved the 
 throne has deserted her like a coward. Hang 
 him, I say!" 
 
 "What do they say?" The tones were hollow. 
 
 "They say he is enamoured of a peasant girl, 
 and dallies with her, forgetting his sacred vows, 
 his promised aid, and perhaps even this, his wed- 
 ding day." 
 
 "God help him!" was the startling and despair- 
 ing cry. . . . He was again seized with the 
 vertigo, and swayed against the tree. For a mo- 
 ment he forgot Maurice, covered his face with his 
 unengaged hand, and sobbed. 
 
 Maurice was helpless; he could offer no conso- 
 lation. This grief he could not understand. He 
 stooped and picked up his revolver and waited. 
 
 " I am weak," said the other man, dashing his 
 hand from his eyes; " I am weak and half starved. 
 It would be better for all concerned if I blew out 
 my brains. The twentieth, the twentieth !" he re- 
 peated, dully. "Curse herl" he burst forth; "as
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 367 
 
 there's a God above us, I'll have revenge. Aye, 
 I'll return to the chateau, Madame, that I will, 
 but at the head of ten thousand men ! . . . 
 The twentieth! She will never forgive me; she 
 will think I, too, deserted her !" He broke down 
 again. 
 
 "An army!" cried Maurice. 
 
 "Aye, and ten thousand men! Come," taking 
 Maurice by the arm; "come, they may be seeking 
 us. To the frontier. Every hour is precious. 
 To a telegraph office ! We shall see if I dally with 
 peasant girls, if I forsake the woman I love!'' 
 
 "You?" Maurice retreated a step. The silver 
 moonshine became tinged with red. 
 
 "I am Prince Frederick, and I love her High- 
 ness. I would sacrifice a thousand kingdoms to 
 spare her a moment's sorrow. I have always loved 
 her." 
 
 "What a woman !" Maurice murmured, as the 
 scheme of Madame's flashed through his mind- 
 "What a woman ! And she had the audacity to 
 kidnap you, too ! " 
 
 "And by the most dishonorable device. I and 
 my suite of gentlemen were coming to Bleiberg to 
 make the final arrangements. At Ehrenstein I 
 received a telegram which requested me to visit 
 till the following train a baron who was formerly 
 a comrade of my father. The telegram advised 
 me of his sudden illness, and that he had some- 
 thing important to disclose to me. I bade my 
 gentlemen, save one, proceed to Bleiberg. My 
 aide -nd I entered the carriage which was to con- 
 vey us to the castlo. We never reached it. On
 
 368 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 the road we fell into an ambush, a contrivance or 
 Madame's. I was brought to the chateau. What- 
 ever happened to Hofer, my aide, I do not know. 
 Doubtless he is dead. But Madame shall pay, 
 both in pride and wealth. I will lay waste this 
 duchy of hers, though in the end the emperor 
 crush me. Let us be off." 
 
 They stumbled on through the forest. So 
 confused was Maurice that he forgot his usual cau- 
 tion. The supreme confidence of this woman and 
 the flawlessness of her schemes dazed him. So far 
 she had stopped at nothing; where would she end? 
 A Napoleon in petticoats, she was about to appall 
 the confederation. She had suppressed a prince 
 who was heir to a kingdom triple in power and size 
 to the kingdom which she coveted. Madame the 
 duchess was relying on some greater power, else 
 her plans were madness. 
 
 As for the prince, he had but one thought: to 
 reach Bleiberg. The confinement, together with 
 mental suffering, anxiety and forced inaction, be- 
 gan to tell on him. Twice he tripped and fell, 
 and Maurice had to return to assist him to his feet. 
 However could they cross the mountains, a feat 
 which needed both courage and extreme physical 
 endurance ? 
 
 "I am so weak," said the prince, "so pitiably 
 weak! I thought to frighten the woman by starv- 
 ing myself, poor fool that I was!" 
 
 And they went on again. Maurice was begin- 
 ning to feel the effect of his wine-bibbing; he had 
 a splitting headache.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 369 
 
 "Silence !" he suddenly whispered, sinking and 
 dragging the prince with him. 
 
 A hundred yards in advance of them stood a sen- 
 tinel, his body bent forward and a hand to his ear. 
 Presently he, too, lay down. Five minutes passed. 
 The sentinel rose, and convinced that his ears had 
 tricked him, resumed his lonely patrol. He dis- 
 appeared toward the west, while the fugitives made 
 off in an easterly direction. Maurice was a sol- 
 dier again. Every two or three hundred yards he 
 knelt and pressed his ear to the cold, damp earth 
 and waited for a familiar jar. The prince watched 
 these movements with interest. 
 
 "You have been a soldier?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes. Perhaps we had better strike out for the 
 mountains. The sentry line can not extend as far 
 as this." 
 
 But now they could see the drab peaks of the 
 mountains which loomed between the partly dis- 
 mantled trees. Beyond lay the kingdom. Would 
 they ever reach it? There was only one pass; this 
 they dared not make. Yet if they attempted to 
 cioss the mountains in a deserted place, they might 
 very easily get lost; for in some locations it was 
 fully six miles across the range, and this, with the 
 ups and downs and windings in and out, might 
 lengthen into twenty miles. They struck out to- 
 ward the mountains, and after half an hour they 
 ^ame upon an unforeseen obstacle. They sat down 
 in despair. This obstacle was the river, not very 
 wide, but deep, turbulent and impassable. 
 
 "We shall have to risk the pass," said Maurice,
 
 370 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 gloomily; "though heaven knows how we are to get 
 through it. We have ten shots between us." 
 
 They followed the river. The roar of it dead- 
 ened all other sounds. For a mile they plodded 
 on, silent, watchful and meditative. The prince 
 thought of his love; Maurice tried to forget his. 
 For him the romance had come to an end, its log- 
 ical end; and it was now only a question of getting 
 back to the world to which he belonged and remain- 
 ing there. He recalled a line he had read some- 
 where: a deep love, gashes into the soul as a 
 scar is hewn upon the body and remains there 
 during the whole life. . . . 
 
 "Look!" cried the prince. He pointed toward 
 the west. 
 
 Maurice came out of his dream and looked. 
 Some distance west of the pass, perhaps half a mile 
 from where they stood, Maurice saw the twinkle of 
 a hundred campfires. It was Madame's army in 
 bivouac. 
 
 "What does this mean?" asked the prince. 
 
 "It means that the duchess is on the eve of strik- 
 ing a blow for her crown," answered Maurice. 
 "And how are we to make the pass, which is proba- 
 bly filled with soldiers? If only we could find a 
 boat! Ah! what would your Highness call this?" 
 He pointed to a thread-like line of bare earth which 
 wended riverward. 
 
 "A sheep or cattle path," said the prince, after a 
 close inspection. 
 
 "Then the river is perhaps fordable here !" ex- 
 claimed Maurice jubilantly. "At any rate, we'll 
 try it; if it gets too deep, we'll come back."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 371 
 
 He walked to the water's edge, studied the black 
 whirling mass, shrugged and stepped in. The 
 prince came after him, unhesitatingly. Both shiv- 
 ered. The water was intensely cold. But the bed 
 was shallow, and the river never mounted above the 
 waist. However, in midstream it rushed strongly 
 and wildly along, and all but carried them 
 off their feet. They arrived in safety at the oppo- 
 site shore, weak and cold in body, but warm in 
 spirit. They lay on the grass for several moments, 
 breathing heavily. They might now gain the pass 
 by clambering up the mountain and picking their 
 way down from the other side. It was not possi- 
 ble that Madame's troopers had entered into the 
 kingdom. 
 
 "I am giving out," the prince confessed reluct- 
 antly. "Let us make as much headway as we can 
 while I last." 
 
 They stood up. Now the moon fell upon them 
 both; and they viewed each other with no little 
 curiosity. What the prince saw pleased him, for 
 he possessed a good eye. What Maurice saw was a 
 frank, manly countenance, youthful, almost boy- 
 ish. The prince did not look to be more than three 
 and twenty, if that; but there was a man's determi- 
 nation in his jaw. This jaw pleased Maurice, for 
 it confided to him that Madame had now something 
 that would cause her worry. 
 
 "I put myself in your care," said the prince, of- 
 fering his hand. "I am not equal to much. A 
 man can not see his wedding day come and go with- 
 out him, helpless to prevent it, and not have the de- 
 sire to sit down and weep and curse. You will see
 
 372 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 nothing but the unfavorable side of me for the next 
 dozen hours." 
 
 "I'm not altogether amiable myself/' replied 
 Maurice with a short laugh. "Let us get out of 
 the moonlight," he added; "we are somewhat con- 
 spicuous, and besides, we should keep moving; 
 this cold is paralyzing. Is your Highness equal to 
 the climbing?" 
 
 "Equal or not, lead the way. If I fall I'll call 
 you/' 
 
 And the weary march began again; over boul- 
 ders, through tangles of tough shrubbery, up steep 
 inclines, around precipices, sometimes enveloped 
 in mists, yet still they kept on. Often the prince 
 fell over ragged stones, but he picked himself up 
 without assistance; though he swore some, Maurice 
 thought none the less of him for that bit of human 
 weakness. The cold was numbing, and neither 
 felt the cuts and bruises. 
 
 After two hours of this fatiguing labor they ar- 
 rived upon a small plateau, about two thousand 
 feet above the valley. The scene was solemn and 
 imposing. The world seemed lying at their feet. 
 The chateau, half hidden in the mist, spark led 
 like an opal. Maurice scowled at it. To the prince 
 the vision was as reviving as a glass of wine. He 
 threatened it with his fist, and plunged on with re- 
 newed vigor. There are few sensations so stimu- 
 lating as the thought of a complete revenge. The 
 angle of vision presently changed, and the historic 
 pile vanished. Maurice never saw the Red Chateau 
 again. 
 
 Little more in the way of mishap be fell
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 373 
 
 them ; and when the moon had wheeled half way 
 down from the zenith, the kingdom lay below them. 
 A descent of an hour's duration brought them into 
 the pass. Maurice calculated that nearly five 
 hours had passed since he left the chateau; for the 
 blue was fading in the east. The phantom vitality 
 of the prince now forsook him ; his legs refused 
 their offices, and he sank upon a boulder, his head 
 in his hands. Maurice was not much better; but 
 the prince had given him the burden of responsibil- 
 ity, and he was determined to hold up under it. 
 
 "If your Highness will remain here," he said, "I 
 will fetch assistance, for the barrack can not be far 
 off." 
 
 The prince nodded and Maurice tramped away. 
 But the miniature barrack and the quaint stone 
 customs houso both were wrapt in gloom and dark- 
 ness. Maurice investigated. Both buildings were 
 deserted; there was no sign of life about. He broke 
 a window, and entered the customs office. Remem- 
 bering that Colonel Mollendorf smoked, he searched 
 the inner pocket of his coat. He drew forth a box 
 of wax matches, struck one and looked about. A 
 struggle had taken place. Evidences were strewn 
 on the floor. The telegraph operator's table had 
 been smashed into bits, the instrument twisted oui; 
 of shape, the jars broken and the wires cut. Like 
 indications of a disturbance were also found in the 
 barrack. 
 
 Maurice began to comprehend. Madame's troop- 
 ers had crossed the frontier, but they had re- 
 turned again, taking with them the handful 
 of troopers belonging to the king. It was plain
 
 374 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 that the object of this skirmish had been to destroy 
 communications between Bleiberg and the frontier. 
 Madame desired to effect a complete surprise, to 
 swoop down on the capital before it could bring 
 a large force into the field. 
 
 There is an unwritten law that when one 
 country intends to wage war against its neigh- 
 bor a formal declaration shall be made. But 
 again Madame had forsaken the beaten paths. 
 More than three weeks had passed since the duchy's 
 representative in Bleiberg had been discredited and 
 given his passports. At once the duchess had re- 
 taliated by discrediting the king's representative in 
 Brunnstadt. Ordinarily this would have been un- 
 derstood as a mutual declaration of war. Instead, 
 both governments ignored each other, one sus- 
 piciously, the other intentionally. All of which is 
 to say, the gage of war had been flung, but neither 
 had stooped to pick it up. 
 
 Perhaps Madame expected by this sudden aggres- 
 siveness to win her fight with as little loss of blood 
 as possible, which- in justice to her was to her 
 credit. Again, a declaration of war openly made 
 might have moved the confederation to veto it by 
 coercion. To win without loss of life would leave 
 the confederation powerless to act. Therefore it 
 will be seen that Madame was not only a daring 
 woman, but a general of no mean ability. 
 
 This post was an isolated one; between it and 
 Bleiberg there was not even a village. The main 
 pass from the kingdom into the duchy was about 
 thirty miles east. Here was a small but lively 
 city named Coberg, a railway center, garrisoned
 
 375 
 
 by one thousand troops. At this pass Madame's 
 contemplated stroke of war would have been impos- 
 sible. The railway ran directly from Coberg to 
 Brunnstadt, fifty miles south of the frontier. A 
 branch of the railway ran from Brunnstadt to a 
 small town seven miles south of the Eed Chateau, 
 which accounts for the ease with which Madame's 
 troops had reached the isolated pass. It was 
 now likely that Madame would arrive before Blei- 
 berg ere her enemies dreamed of the stroke. Mau- 
 rice could see how well the traitorous administra- 
 tion had played into Madame's hands. Here was 
 the one weak spot, and they had allowed it to re- 
 main thus weak. 
 
 "The kingdom is lost/' thought Maurice. "His 
 Highness and I may as well return to the chateau, 
 for all the good our escape will do us. Hang them 
 all !" 
 
 He began to forage, and discovered a bottle full 
 of peach brandy. He drank half the contents, re- 
 serving the remainder for the prince. As he 
 lowered the bottle there came a sound which 
 caused him almost to lose hold of the vigorous 
 tonic. The sound he heard was the shrill whinney 
 of a horse. He pocketed the bottle and dashed out 
 to the stables. To his joy several horses stamped 
 restlessly in the stalls. The attacking party had 
 without doubt come on foot. He led out two, sad- 
 dled and bridled them and returned to the prince, 
 who had fallen asleep. Maurice roused him. 
 
 "To Bleiberg, your Highness," he cried, at the 
 same time offering the bottle, which the prince did 
 not hesitate to empty.
 
 376 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 "Ha !" staggering to his feet. "Where are the 
 men?" 
 
 Maurice explained the cause of their absence. 
 The prince swore, and climbed with difficulty into 
 the saddle. 
 
 "Thank God," he said, as they galloped away, 
 "we shall be there first." 
 
 "Adieu, Madame !" Maurice cried, airily. He 
 was free. 
 
 "To our next meeting, duchess!" The prince, 
 too, was free, but he thirsted for a full revenge. 
 
 They had been on the way but a short time when 
 Maurice lifted his arm. 
 
 "Look !" 
 
 The prince raised his head. It was dawn, 
 yellow and cold and pure. 
 
 They fell into silence; sometimes Maurice 
 caught himself coimting the beat of the hoofs 
 and the variation of sounds, as when they struck 
 sand or slate, or crossed small wooden bridges. 
 Here and there he saw peasants going into the 
 fields to begin the long, long day of toil. The sad- 
 dle on which he sat had been the property of a short 
 man, for the stirrups wore too high, and the prince's 
 were too low. But neither desired to waste time to 
 adjust them. And so they rode with dangling legs 
 and bodies sunken in the saddles; mute, as if by 
 agreement. 
 
 They had gone perhaps ten miles when they per- 
 ceived a horse flying toward them, half a mile away. 
 The rider was not yet visible. They felt no alarm, 
 but instinctively they drew together. Nearer and 
 nearer came the lonely horseman, and as the dis-
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 377 
 
 tance lessened into some hundred yards they dis- 
 cerned the flutter of a gown. 
 
 "A woman!" exclaimed Maurice. "And alone 
 this time of morning!" 
 
 "Eh?" cried the prince; "and heading for the 
 duchy? Let us wait." 
 
 They drew up to the side of the highway. The 
 woman came fearlessly on, her animal's head down 
 and his tail flaring out behind. On, on; abreast of 
 them; as she flew past there was a vision of a pale, 
 determined face, a blond 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 alto- 
 gether 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 for- 
 ward. 
 
 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."
 
 378 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 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 re- 
 ceived at Madame's hands. Your government shall 
 never know." 
 
 Maurice studied the mane of his horse. Sud- 
 denly he made a gesture. This gesture consigned 
 to the four winds his diplomatic career. "I ac- 
 cept," he said. "You will find me at the Continen- 
 tal. 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 pal- 
 ace!" 
 
 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 impa- 
 tience. 
 
 "Ho! open, open!" he called. 
 
 Several cuirassiers lounged about. At the sight
 
 THE. PUPPET CROWH 3^ 
 
 of these two hatless, bedraggled men storming the 
 gates, they ran forward with drawn swords and an- 
 gry 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 I" 
 
 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 Con- 
 tinental, leaving the amazed cuirassiers gaping af- 
 ter 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 up- 
 hold thrones, seemed so at variance with his repub- 
 lican 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 mount- 
 ains! Yes; he had fallen asleep somewhere and 
 hud been whisked away into a kind of fairyland, 
 livery one was in trouble just now, as they al- 
 \\uys are in certain chapters of fairy tales, but all 
 \\ould end happily, and then he would wake. 
 
 Meanwhile the prince entered the palace and was
 
 380 THE PUPPET C EO W N 
 
 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?" 
 
 Yon Mitter fell back against the wall and all 
 but lost hold of his saber. "Your Highness?" he 
 gasped, overcome. 
 
 "Even so !" said the prince. "The archbishop ! 
 the Marshal ! Lead me to them at once !" 
 
 Von Mitter was too much the soldier not to mas- 
 ter his surprise at once. He saluted, clicked his 
 heels and limped toward the throne room. He 
 stopped at the threshold, saluted again, and, in a 
 voice full of quavers, announced: 
 
 "His Highness Prince Frederick of Carnavia." 
 
 He stepped aside, and the prince pushed past 
 him into the throne room. At this dramatic en- 
 trance there rose from the archbishop, the Marshal, 
 the princess, the Carnavian ambassador, from all the 
 court dignitaries, a cry of wonder and astonishment. 
 
 "His Highness!" 
 
 "Aye!" cried the prince, brokenly, for his joy at 
 seeing the princess nigh overcame him. "I have 
 been a prisoner of Madame'*, who at this moment 
 is marching on Bleiberg with an army four thou- 
 sand strong !" And stumblingly he related his 
 misadventures. 
 
 The Marshal did not wait until he had done, 
 nor did the new Colonel of the cuirassiers; both 
 rushed from the room. The archbishop frowned; 
 while the princess and the court stared at the
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 381 
 
 prince with varying emotions. Before the final 
 word had passed his lips, he approached her High- 
 ness, fell on his knee and raised her hand to his 
 lips. He noticed not how cold it was. 
 
 "Thank God, Mademoiselle," he said, "that once 
 more I look into your eyes. And if one wedding day 
 is gone well, there is yet time for another!" He 
 rose, and proudly before them all he drew her toward 
 him and kissed her cheek. It was his right ; she was 
 the light of all his dreams, at once his bride-to-be and 
 lady-love. But in his joy and eagerness he did not 
 see how pale she grew at the touch 'of his lips, nor 
 how the lids of her eyes trembled and fell. 
 
 Next the prince recounted Maurice's adventures, 
 how he became connected with those at the chateau, 
 even Fitzgerald's fall from grace. The indignation 
 and surprise which was accorded this recital was un- 
 bounded. 
 
 The brown eyes of the princess filled. In a mo- 
 ment she had traversed the space of ten years to a 
 rare September noon, when a gray-haired old man 
 had kissed her hand and praised her speech. A young 
 dog stood beside her, ready for a romp in the park. 
 Across the path sat her father, who was smiling, and 
 who would never smile again. How many times had 
 her girlish fancy pictured the son of that old man ! 
 How many times had she dreamed of him aye, 
 prayed for him ! The room grew dark, and she 
 pressed her hand over her heart. To her the future 
 was empty indeed. There was nothing left but the 
 vague perfume of the past, the faint incense of futile, 
 childish dreams. To stand on the very threshold of
 
 382 THE PUPPET GROWN 
 
 life, and yet to see no joy beyond! She struggled 
 against the sob which rose, and conquered it. 
 
 "To arms, Messieurs, to arms !" cried the prince, 
 feverishly. "To arms!" 
 
 The archbishop stepped forward and took the 
 prince's hand in his own. 
 
 "God wills all things," he said, sadly, "and per- 
 haps he has willed that your Highness should come 
 too late !" And that strange, habitual smile was 
 gone forever. No one could fathom the true sig- 
 nificance of this peculiar speech. 
 
 "But "aux Urmes" was taken up, and spread 
 throughout the city.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE FORTUNES OF WAR 
 
 War ! The whole city was in tumult. The guests 
 were leaving the hotels, the timid were preparing to 
 fly, and shopkeepers were putting up their blinds and 
 hiding their valuables; the parks and cafes were de- 
 serted. The railway booking office was crowded, and 
 a babel of tongues quarreled for precedence. The 
 siege of Paris was but yesterday's news, and tourists 
 did not propose to be walled in from the outer world. 
 Some looked upon the scene as a comic opera ; others 
 saw the tragedy of men snarling at one another's 
 throats. 
 
 Two hundred gendarmes patrolled the streets; 
 for in war time the dregs of a city float to the 
 surface. Above the foreign legations flags rose, 
 offering protection to all those who possessed the 
 right to claim it. Less than four thousand troops 
 had marched from the city that day, but these were 
 the flower of the army, consisting of two thousand 
 foot, six cannon and twelve hundred horse. Europe 
 has always depended largely on the cavalry, which 
 in the past has been a most formidable engine in 
 warfare. 
 
 With gay plumes and banners, glittering 
 
 383
 
 384 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 helmets and flashing cuirasses, they had gone 
 forth to meet Madame and drive her back across 
 the range. They had made a brave picture, espe- 
 cially the royal cuirassiers, who numbered three hun- 
 died strong, and who were to fight not only for glory, 
 but for bread. Fifty of them had been left behind 
 to guard the palaces. 
 
 In the royal bedchamber the king lay, all uncon- 
 scious of the fate impending. The brain had ceased 
 to live; only a feeble pulse stirred irregularly. The 
 state physician shook his head, and, from time to 
 time, laid his fingers on the unfeeling wrist. To 
 him it was a matter of a few hours. 
 
 But to the girl, whose face lay hidden in the coun- 
 terpane, close to one of those senseless hands, to her 
 it was a matter of a breaking heart, of eyes which 
 could be no longer urged to tears, the wells having 
 dried up. Dear God, she thought, how cruel it was ! 
 Her tried and trusted friend, the one playmate 
 of her childhood, was silently slipping out of her life 
 forever. Ah, what to her were crowns and kingdoms, 
 aye, and even war ? Her father dead, what mattered 
 it who reigned ? How she prayed that he might live ! 
 They would go away together, and live in peace and 
 quiet, undisturbed by the storms of intrigue. . . . 
 It was not to be; he was dying. She would be the 
 wife of no man ; her father, hovering in spirit above 
 her. would read her heart and understand. Dead, he 
 would ask no sacrifice of her. Henceforth only God 
 would be her king, and she would worship him in 
 seme sacred convent. 
 
 The old valet, who had served his master from boy- 
 hood, stood in the anteroom and fumbled his lips.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 his faded eyes red with weeping. He was losing the 
 only friend he had. Elsewhere the servants wan- 
 dered about restlessly, waiting for news from the 
 front, to learn if they, too, were to join in the mad 
 flight from the city. Few servants love masters in 
 adversity. Self-interest is the keynote to their ex- 
 istences. 
 
 In the east wing three men were holding a whis- 
 pered consultation. The faros of two were pale and 
 deep-lined ; the, face of the third expressed a mixture 
 of condolence and triumph. These three gentlemen 
 were the archbishop, the chancellor and the Austrian 
 ambassador. History has not taken into account 
 what passed between these three men, but subsequent 
 events proved that it signified disaster to one who 
 dreamed of conquest and of power. 
 
 Said the ambassador, rising: "After what has 
 been said, his Imperial Majesty will, I can speak au- 
 thoritatively, further discredit Walmoden ; for I have 
 this day received information from a reliable source 
 which precludes any rehabilitation of that prince. 
 My deepest sympathies are with her Highness; his 
 Majesty highly honored her unfortunate father. 
 Permit me to bid you good day, for you know that 
 the matter under my hand needs my immediate 
 attention." 
 
 When he had gone the prelate said : "My friend, 
 our services to the kingdom are nearly over." 
 
 "We are lost !" replied the chancellor. "The king 
 is happy, indeed." 
 
 "I find," said the prelate, "that we have been lost 
 for ten years. Had this Englishman proved true, it
 
 386 
 
 would not have mattered; had Prince Frederick ar- 
 rived in time, still it would not have mattered. But 
 above all, I was determined that Madame the duchess 
 should not triumph. The end was written ten years 
 ago. How invincible is fate ! How incontestible its 
 decrees I" 
 
 In the lower town the students were preparing a 
 riot, which was to take place that night. Old Stii- 
 ler's was thronged. Stiller himself looked on indif- 
 ferently, even listlessly. He had heard of Kopf's 
 death. 
 
 It was half after five of the afternoon. Six miles 
 beyond the Althofen bridge, in all thirteen miles 
 from Bleiberg, a long, low cloud of dust hung 
 over the king's highway. This cloud of dust was 
 caused by the hurried, rhythmic pad-pad of human 
 feet, the striking of hoofs and the wheels of can- 
 non. It marked the progress of an army. To 
 the great surprise of the Marshal, the prince 
 and the staff, they had pushed thus far during 
 the afternoon without seeing a sign of the enemy. 
 Was Madame asleep? Was she so confident 
 her projects were unknown that she had chosen 
 night as the time of her attack? Night, indeed, 
 when the strength of her forces would be a mat- 
 ter of conjecture to the assaulted, who at the sud- 
 denness of her approach would succumb to panic ! 
 The prince was jubilant and hopeful. He had no 
 doubt that they would arrive at the pass just as 
 Madame was issuing forth. This meant an easy 
 victory, for once the guns covered the narrow pass, 
 though Madame's army were ten times as strong, its
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 387 
 
 defeat was certain. A small force might hold it 
 in check for hours. 
 
 A squadron of cuirassiers had been sent forward to 
 reconnoiter, and as yet none had returned with 
 alarms. The road had many windings, and was 
 billowed frequently with hills, and ran through 
 small forests. Only the vast blue bulk of the 
 mountains remained ever in view. 
 
 "We shall drink at the Red Chateau to-night," 
 said the prince, gaily, to Maurice. 
 
 "That we shall," replied Maurice; "and the best 
 in the cellars." 
 
 Only the Marshal said nothing; he knew what 
 war was. In his youth he had served in Transyl- 
 vania, and he was not minded to laugh and jest. 
 Then, too, there was injustice on both sides. Poor 
 devil ! as his thoughts recurred to the king. 
 Touched for the moment by the wings of ambi- 
 tion, which is at best a white vulture, he had 
 usurped another's throne, and to this end ! But 
 he was less answerable than the archbishop, who 
 had urged him. 
 
 Occasionally he glanced back at the native troops, 
 the foot, the horse, the artillery, and scowled. 
 From these his glance wandered to the cold, 
 impassive face of General Kronau, who rode 
 at his side, and he rubbed his nose. Kronau 
 had been a favorite of Albrecht's . . . How 
 would he act? In truth, the Marshal's thoughts 
 were not altogether pleasant. Some of these men 
 surrounding him, exchanging persiflage, might 
 never witness another sunset. For, while the world 
 would look upon this encounter as one looks upon
 
 388 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 a comedy, for some it would serve as tragedy. 
 Often he lent his ear to the gay banter of the 
 young American, and watched the careless smile 
 on his face. What was he doing here? Why was 
 he risking his life for 'no cause whatever, an alien, 
 in natural sympathy neither with the kingdom nor 
 with the duchy ? A sad, grim smile parted his lips. 
 
 "0, the urbanity of the young and the brave!" 
 he murmured. 
 
 Maurice felt the old familiar exhilaration the 
 soldier's exhilaration quicken the beat of his 
 pulse. He did not ask himself why he was here; 
 he knew why. A delightful flower had sprung up 
 in his heart, and fate had nipped it. Whither 
 this new adventure would lead him he cared not. 
 From now on life for him must be renewed by 
 continual change and excitement. Since no one 
 depended on him, his life was his to dispose of 
 as he willed. Friends? He laughed. He knew 
 the world too well. He himself was his best 
 friend, for he had always been true to himself. 
 
 He might be shot, but he had faced that pos- 
 sibility before. Besides, to-day's experience 
 would be new to him. He had never witnessed a 
 battle in the open, man to man, in bright, re- 
 splendent uniforms. A ragged, dusty troop of 
 brown-skinned men in faded blue, with free and easy 
 hats, irregular of formation, no glory, no brilliancy, 
 skirmishing with outlawed white men and cunning 
 Indians, that was the extent of his knowledge by ex- 
 perience. True, these self-same men in dingy blue 
 fought with a daring such as few soldiers living
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 389 
 
 possessed; but they lacked the ideal picturesqueness 
 which made this army so attractive. 
 
 The sharp edges of his recent fatigue were not 
 yet dulled, but his cuirass sat lightly upon him, 
 the sound of the dangling saber at his side smote 
 pleasantly his ear, and the black Mecklenberg under 
 him was strong and active. To return to 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 him- 
 self 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! queyaime 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 repub- 
 lican? No matter; a gallant man. 
 
 "Monsieur," he said impulsively, "you shall al-
 
 390 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 ways 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 sud- 
 denly 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 advanc- 
 ing 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 inten- 
 tion 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.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 391 
 
 But the Englishman. . . . He was con- 
 science 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 un- 
 stable organ. The possibility of the prince's arriv- 
 ing 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 compara- 
 tively in the open. A battle hung in the air. 
 
 The king's forces came to an abrupt halt. Or- 
 derlies 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 
 a dress parade. Maurice could not control his ad- 
 miration. 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 smoothed 
 his beard, formed his lips into words, but did not
 
 392 THE PUPPET CPtOWN 
 
 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, Mau- 
 rice gazed around impatiently. The blood rushed 
 into his heart. For this is what he saw: the in- 
 fantry leaning indolently on their guns, their offi- 
 cers snipping the grasses with their swords; the 
 cuirassiers hidden in the bulk of the native cav- 
 alry; artillerymen seated carelessly on the caissons, 
 and the gunners smoking and leaning against the 
 guns. All action was gone, as if by magic; noth- 
 ing 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
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 393 
 
 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 legiti- 
 mate 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 daugh- 
 ter. 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 un- 
 embarrassed, "that the part I play is not an agree- 
 able one to me, but it is preferable to the needless 
 loss of human life. The duchess was to have en- 
 tered Bleiberg at night, to save us this present dis- 
 honor, if you persist in calling it such. But his 
 Highness, who is young, and Monseigneur the 
 archbiship, who dreams of Richelieu, made it im- 
 possible. No harm is intended to any one."
 
 394 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 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 
 3'our 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 
 blue uniforms. 
 
 This was the incident upon which Madame the 
 duchess relied. 
 
 With rage and chagrin in his heart, Maurice viewed 
 the scene. The knell of the Osians had been struck. 
 He gazed forlornly at the cuirassiers; they at least 
 had come to sell their lives honestly for their bread. 
 Presently the two armies came together; all was con- 
 fusion and cheers. Kronau approached the leader 
 of the cavalry. . . . Maurice was greatly dis- 
 turbed. He leaned toward the prince.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 395 
 
 <r Your Highness," he whispered, "I am going to 
 make a dash for the road." 
 
 "Yes, yes!" replied the prince, intuitively. "My 
 God, yes ! Warn her to fly, so that she will not be 
 compelled to witness this cursed woman's triumph. 
 Save her that humiliation. Go, and God be with you, 
 my friend! We are all dishonored. The Marshal 
 looks as if he were dying." 
 
 The native troopers, in their eagerness to witness 
 the meeting between Kronau and the former Colonel 
 of the cuirassiers, had pushed forward. A dozen, 
 however, had hemmed in the Marshal, the prince and 
 Maurice. But these were standing in their stirrups. 
 Maurice gradually brought his horse about so that 
 presently he was facing north. Directly in front of 
 him was an opening. He grasped his saber firmly 
 and pressed the spurs. Quick as he was, two sabers 
 barred his way, but he beat them aside, went diago- 
 nally down the hill, over the stone wall and into the 
 road. 
 
 While he was maneuvering for this dash, one man 
 had been eying him with satisfaction. As the black 
 horse suddenly sank from view behind the hill, Beau- 
 vais, to the astonishment of Kronau, drew his revol- 
 ver. 
 
 "There goes a man," he cried, "who must not 
 escape. He is so valuable that I shall permit ( no one 
 but myself to bring him back !" And the splendid 
 white animal under him bounded up the hill and 
 down the other side. 
 
 Beauvais had a well-defined purpose in following 
 ulone. He was determined that one Maurice Carewe
 
 396 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 should not bother anyone hereafter; he knew too 
 much. 
 
 The white horse and the black faded away in the 
 blur of rising dust.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 For a long time Maurice rode with his head 
 almost touching the coal black mane of his gal- 
 lant Mecklenberg. Twice he glanced back to 
 see -who followed, but the volume of dust which 
 rolled after him obscured all behind. He could 
 hear the far-off hammer of hoofs, but this, ming- 
 ling with the noise of his own horse, confused him 
 as to the number of pursuers. He reasoned that 
 he was well out of range, for there came no re- 
 port of firearms. The road presently described 
 a semi-circle, passing through a meager orchard. 
 Once beyond this he turned again in the saddle. 
 
 "Only one; that is not so bad as it might be. 
 It is one to one." But a second glance told him 
 who this solitary pursuer was. "The devil !" he 
 laughed as one of Tasso's heroes might have 
 laughed ! "The devil ! how that man loves me !" 
 He was confident that the white horse would never 
 overtake the black. 
 
 On they flew, pursued and pursuer. At length 
 Maurice bit his lip and frowned. The white horse 
 was growing larger; the distance between was 
 lessening, slowly but certainly. 
 397
 
 398 THE PUPPET GROWN 
 
 "Good boy!" he said encouragingly to the Meck- 
 lenberg. "Good boy!" 
 
 Deserted farm houses swept past; hills rose and 
 vanished, but still the white horse crept up, up, 
 up. The distance ere another half mile had gone 
 had diminished to four hundred yards; from four 
 hundred it fell to three hundred, from three hun- 
 dred to two hundred. The Mecklenburg was doing 
 glorious work, but the marvelous stride of the ani- 
 mal in the rear was matchless. Suddenly Mau- 
 rice saw a tuft of the red plume on his helmet 
 spring out ahead of him and sail away, and a 
 second later came the report. One, he counted; 
 four more were to follow. Next a stream of fire 
 passed along his cheek, and something warm 
 trickled down the side of his neck. Two, he 
 counted, his face now pale and set. The third 
 knocked his scabbard into the air. 
 
 Quickly he shifted his saber to the left, dropped 
 the reins and drew his own revolver. He under- 
 stood. He was not to be taken prisoner. Beauvais 
 intended to kill him offhand. Only the dead keep 
 secrets. Maurice flung about and fired three con- 
 secutive times. The white horse reared, and the 
 shako of his master fell into the dust, but there was 
 no other result. As Maurice pressed the trigger for 
 the fourth time the revolver was violently 
 wrenched from his hand, and a thousand needles 
 seemed to be quivering in the flesh of his arm 
 and hand. 
 
 "My God, what a shot !" he murmured. "I 
 am lost!" 
 
 Simultaneous with the fifth and last shot came
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 399 
 
 a sensation somewhat like that caused by a 
 sound blow in the middle of the back. Strange, 
 but he felt no pain, neither was there an accom- 
 panying numbness. Then he remembered his cui- 
 rass, which was of steel an eighth of an inch thick. 
 It had saved his life. The needles began to leave 
 his right hand and arm, and he knew that he had 
 received no injury other than a shock. He passed 
 the saber back to his right hand. He had no 
 difficulty in holding it. Gradually his grip grew 
 strong and steady. 
 
 Beauvais was now within twenty yards of Mau- 
 rice. Had he been less eager and held his fire 
 up to this point, Maurice had been a dead man. 
 The white horse gained every moment. A dull 
 fury grew into life in Maurice's heart. Instead 
 of continuing the race, he brought the Mecklen- 
 berg to his haunches and wheeled. He made 
 straight for Beauvais, who was surprised at this 
 change of tactics. In the rush they passed each 
 other and the steel hummed spitefully through 
 space. Both wheeled again. 
 
 "Your life or mine !" snarled Maurice. His 
 coolness, however, was proportionate to his rage. 
 For the first time in his life the lust to kill 
 seized him. 
 
 "It shall be yours, damn you!" replied Beau- 
 vais. 
 
 "The Austrian ambassador has your history; 
 kill me or not, you are lost." Maurice made a sweep 
 at his enemy's head and missed. 
 
 Beauvais replied in kind, and it flashed vicious- 
 ly off the point of Maurice's saber. He had only
 
 400 
 
 hit life to lose, but it had suddenly become precious 
 to him; Beauvais had not only his life, but all that 
 made life worth living. His onslaught was terrible. 
 Besides, he was fighting against odds; he wore no 
 steel protector. Maurice wore his only a moment 
 longer. A cut in the side severed the lacings, and 
 the sagging of the cuirass greatly handicapped 
 him. He pressed the spurs and dashed away, 
 while Beauvais cursed him for a cowardly cur. 
 Maurice, by this maneuver, gained sufficient time 
 to rid himself of the cumbersome steel. What he 
 lost in protection, he gained in lightness and free- 
 dom. Shortly Beauvais was at him again. The 
 time for banter had passed; they fought grimly 
 and silently. The end for one was death. Beau- 
 vais knew that if his antagonist escaped this time 
 the life he longed for, the power and honor it prom- 
 ised, would never be his. On his side, Maurice 
 was equally determined to live. 
 
 The horses plunged and snorted, reared and 
 swayed and bit. Sometimes they carried their 
 masters several yards apart, only to come smash- 
 ing together again. 
 
 The sun was going down, and a clear, white 
 light prevailed. Afar in the field a herd was 
 grazing, but no one would call them to the 
 sheds. Master and mistress had long since taken 
 flight. 
 
 The due? went on. Maurice was growing tired. 
 By and by he began to rely solely on the defense. 
 When they were close, Beauvais played for the 
 point; the moment the space widened he took to 
 the edge. He saw what Maurice felt the weak-
 
 THE PtJPPET CROWN 401 
 
 .erring, and he indulged in a cruel smile. They 
 came close; he made as though to give the point. 
 Maurice, thinking to anticipate, reached. Quick 
 as light Beauvais raised his blade and brought it 
 down with crushing force, standing the while in 
 the stirrups. The blow missed Maurice's head by 
 an inch, but it sank so deeply in his left shoulder 
 that it splintered the collar bone and stopped with- 
 in a hair of the great artery that runs under- 
 neath. 
 
 The world turned red, then black. When 
 it grew light again Maurice beheld the dripping 
 blade swinging aloft again. Suddenly the black 
 horse snapped at the white, which veered. The 
 stroke which would have split Maurice's skull in 
 twain, fell on the rear of the saddle, and the blade 
 was so firmly imbedded in the wooden molding 
 that Beauvais could not withdraw it at once. 
 Blinded by pain as he was, and fainting, yet Mau- 
 rice saw his chance. He thrust with all his re- 
 maining strength at the brown throat so near him. 
 And the blade went true. The other's body stif- 
 fened, his head flew back, his eyes started; he 
 clutched wildly at the steel, but his hands had not 
 the power to reach it. A bloody foam gushed be- 
 tween his lips; his mouth opened; he swayed, and 
 finally tumbled into the road dead. 
 
 As Maurice gazed down at him, between the dead 
 eyes and his own there passed a vision of a dark- 
 skinned girl, who, if still living, dwelt in a lonely 
 convent, thousands of miles away. 
 
 Maurice was sensible of but little pain; a pleas-
 
 402 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 ant numbness began to steal over him. His sleeve 
 was soaked, his left hand was red, and the blood 
 dripped from his fingers and made round black 
 spots in the dust of the road. A circle of this 
 blackness was widening about the head of the 
 fallen man. Maurice watched it, fascinated. . . 
 He was dead, and the fact that he was a prince 
 did not matter. 
 
 It seemed to Maurice that his own body 
 was transforming into lead, and he vaguely 
 wondered how the horse could bear up such 
 a weight. He was sleepy, too. Dimly it came 
 to him that he also must be dying. . . . No; 
 he would not die there, beside this man. He 
 still gripped his saber. Indeed, his hand was as 
 if soldered to the wire and leather windings on 
 the hilt. Mollendorf had said that Beauvais was 
 invincible. . . . Beauvais was dead. Was he, 
 too, dying? . . . No; he would not die there. 
 The Mecklenberg started forward at a walk; a 
 spur had touched him. 
 
 "No !" Maurice cried, throwing off the drowsi- 
 ness. "My God, I will not die here ! . . . Go, 
 boy!" The Mecklenberg set off, loping easily. 
 
 His recent enemy, the great white horse, stood 
 motionless in the center of the road, and followed 
 him with large, inquiring eyes. He turned 
 and looked at the silent huddled mass in the dust 
 at his feet, and whinneyed. But he did not move; 
 a foot still remained in the stirrup. 
 
 Soon Maurice remembered an episode of his 
 school days, when, in the spirit of precocious re- 
 search, he had applied carbolic acid to his arm.
 
 THE PUTPET CKOWN 403 
 
 It occurred to him that he was now being bathed 
 in that burning fluid. He was recovering from 
 the shock. With returning sense came the in- 
 crease of pain, pain so tormenting and exquisite 
 that sobs rose in his throat and choked him. Per- 
 spiration matted his hair; every breath he took 
 was a knife thrust, and the rise and fall of the 
 horse, gentle as it was, caused the earth to reel 
 and careen heavenward. 
 
 Bleiberg; he was to reach Bleiberg. He repeated 
 this thought over and over. Bleiberg, to warn her. 
 Why should he go to Bleiberg to warn her? What 
 was he doing here, he who loved life so well ? What 
 had led him into this? . . . There had been 
 a battle, but neither army had been cognizant of 
 it. He endeavored to move his injured arm, and 
 found it bereft of locomotion. The tendons had 
 been cut. And he could not loosen his grip on the 
 saber which he held in his right hand. The 
 bridle rein swung from side to side. 
 
 Rivulets of fire began to run up and down his 
 side; the cords in his neck were stiffening. Still 
 the blood went drip, drip, drip, into the dust. 
 Would he reach Bleiberg, or would he die on the 
 way ? God ! for a, drink of water, cold water. He 
 set his teeth in his lips to neutralize the pain in his 
 arm and shoulder. His lips were numb, and the 
 pressure of his teeth was as nothing. From one 
 moment to the next he expected to drop from the 
 saddle, but somehow he hung on; the spark of life 
 was tenacious. The saber dangled on one side, the 
 scabbard on the other. The blood, drying in 
 places, drew the skin as tight a a drumhead.
 
 404 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 On, on, on; up long inclines, down the steeps; 
 he lost all track of time, and the darkness thickened 
 and the stars stood out more clearly. . . . He 
 could look back on a clean life; true, there were 
 some small stains, but these were human. Strange 
 fancies jostled one another; faces long forgot 
 reappeared; scenes from boyhood rose before him. 
 Home! He had none, save that which was the 
 length and breadth of his native land. On, on, 
 on; the low snuffle of the horse sometimes aroused 
 him from the stupor. 
 
 "Why you do this I do not know, nor shall I 
 ask. Monsieur, my prayers go with you !" . . . 
 She had said that to him, and had given him her 
 hand to kiss; a princess, one of the chosen and the 
 few. To live long enough to see her again; a final 
 service and adieu! . . . Ah, but it had been 
 a good fight, a good fight. Xo fine phrases; noth- 
 ing but the lust for blood; a life for a life; a 
 game in which the winner was also like to lose. 
 A gray patch in the white of the road attracted his 
 attention a bridge. 
 
 "Water!" he murmured. 
 
 Mottled with the silver of the stars, it ran along 
 through the fields; a brook, shallow and narrow, 
 but water. The perfume of the grasses was sweet; 
 the horse sniffed joyously. He stopped of his own 
 accord. Maurice had strength enough to dis- 
 mount. The saber slid from his grasp. He stag- 
 gered down to the water. In kneeling a faintne>> 
 passed over him; he rolled into the brook and lay 
 there until the water, almost clogging his throat 
 and nostrils, revived him. He crawled to his knees,
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 405 
 
 coughing and choking. The contact of the cold 
 with the burning wound caused a delightful sen- 
 sation. 
 
 "Water!" he said, and plashed it in his face. 
 
 The horse had come down from the road. He 
 had not waited for an invitation. He drank thirst- 
 ily at the side of his master. The water gurgled 
 in his long, black throat. 
 
 "Good boy!" Maurice called, and dashed water 
 against his shoulder. "Good boy !" he remem- 
 bered that the horse in biting the white one had 
 Baved his life. 
 
 Each handful of the cold liquid caused him to 
 gasp; but soon the fever and fire died out, leaving 
 only the duller pain. When he rose from his 
 knees, however, he found that the world had not 
 yet ceased its wild reeling. He stooped to regain 
 his saber, and fell into the dust; though to him it 
 was not he who fell, but the earth which rose. He 
 struggled to his feet, leaned panting on his 
 saber, and tried to steady himself. He laughed 
 hysterically. He had dismounted, but he knew 
 that he could never climb to the back of the horse; 
 and Bleiberg might yet be miles away. To walk 
 the distance; was it possible? To reach Bleiberg 
 before Madame. . . . Madame the duchess 
 and her army! He laughed again, but there was 
 a wild strain in his laughter. Ah, God! what a 
 farce it was! One man dead and another dying; 
 the beginning and the end of the war. The comic 
 opera! La Grande Duchesse! And the fool of 
 an Englishman was playing Fritz! He started
 
 406 
 
 down the road, his body slouched forward, the 
 saber trailing in the dust. . . . 
 
 " Void le sabre de mon p&re!" 
 
 The hand of madness had touched him. The 
 Mecklenberg followed at his heels as a dog would 
 have followed his master. 
 
 Less than a mile away a yellow haze wavered 
 in the sky. It was the reflection of the city lights. 
 
 Maurice passed under the town gates, the wild 
 song on his lips, his eyes bloodshot, his hair dank 
 about his brow, conscious of nothing but the mad, 
 rollicking rhythm. Nobody molested him; those 
 he met gave him the full width of the road. A 
 strange picture they presented, the man and the 
 troop horse. Some one recognized the trappings 
 of the horse; half an hour later it was known 
 throughout the city that the king's army had been 
 defeated and that Madame was approaching. Stu- 
 dents began their depredations. They built bon- 
 fires. They raided the office of the official paper, 
 and destroyed the presses and type. Later they 
 marched around the Hohenstaufenplatz, yelling 
 and singing. 
 
 Once a gendarme tried to stop Maurice and in- 
 quire into his business. The inquisition was ab- 
 ruptly ended by a cut from the madman's sword. 
 The gendarme took to his legs. Maurice continued, 
 and the Mecklenberg tramped on after him. Into 
 the Konigstrasse they turned. At this time, before 
 the news was known, the street was deserted. Up 
 the center of it the man went, his saber scraping 
 along the asphalt, the horse always following.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 407 
 
 Void le sabre de mon pre! 
 
 Tu vas le mettre d, ton c6te! 
 Apres la victoire, j'espZre 
 
 Te revoir en bonne sant 
 
 The street lamps swayed; sometimes a dozen 
 revolved on one post, and Maurice would stop long 
 enough to laugh. How easy it was to walk ! All 
 he had to do was to lift a foot, and the pavement 
 would rise to meet it. The moon, standing high 
 behind him, cast a long, weird shadow, and he 
 staggered after it and cut at it with the saber. 
 It was only when he saw the lights of the royal 
 palace and the great globes on the gate posts that 
 sanity returned. This sanity was of short dura- 
 tion. 
 
 "To the palace!" he cried; "to the palace! To 
 warn her I" And he stumbled against the gates, 
 still calling, "To the palace! To the palace!" 
 
 The cuirassiers who had been left behind to pro- 
 tect the inmates of the palace, were first aroused 
 by the yelling and singing of the students. They 
 rushed out of the guard room and came running 
 to the gates, which they opened. The body of a 
 man rolled inside. They stopped and examined 
 him; the uniform was theirs. The face they 
 looked into was that of the handsome young for- 
 eigner who, that day, had gone forth from the 
 city, a gay and gallant figure, who sat his horse 
 so well that he earned their admiration. What 
 could this mean? And where were the others? 
 Had there been a desperate battle? 
 
 "Run back to the guard room, one of you, and 
 fetch some brandy. He lives." And Lieutenant
 
 408 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 Scharfenstein took his hand from the insensibL, 
 man's heart. Pulsation was there, but weak and 
 intermittent. "Sergeant, take ten men and clear the 
 square. If they refuse to leave, kill ! Madame is 
 not yet queen by any means." 
 
 The men scattered. One soon returned with 
 the brandy. Scharfenstein moistened the wound- 
 ed man's lips and placed his palm under the nose. 
 Shortly Maurice opened his eyes, his half-delirious 
 eyes. 
 
 "To the palace!" he said, "to the palace Ah!" 
 He saw the faces staring down at him. He strug- 
 gled. Instinctively they all stood back. What 
 seemed incredible to them, he got to his knees, 
 from his knees to his feet, and propped himself 
 against a gate post. "Your life or mine !" he 
 cried. "Come on ; a man can die but once !" He 
 lunged, and again they retreated. He laughed. 
 "It was a good fight !" He reeled off toward the 
 palace steps. They did not hinder him, but they 
 followed, expecting each moment to see him fall. 
 But he fell not. One by one he mounted the steps, 
 steadying himself with the saber. He gained the 
 landing, once more steadied himself, and vanished 
 into the palace. 
 
 "He is out of his head!" cried Scharfenstein, 
 rushing up the steps. "God knows what has hap- 
 pened !" 
 
 He was in time to see Maurice lurch into the 
 arms of Captain von Mitter, who had barred the 
 way to the private apartments. 
 
 "Carewe! . . . What has happened? God's
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 409 
 
 name, you are soaked in blood!" Von Mitter held 
 Maurice at arm's length. "A battle?" 
 
 "Aye, a battle; one man is dead and another 
 soon will be !" A transient lucidity beamed in 
 Maurice's eyes. "We were betrayed by the native 
 troops; they ran to meet Madame. . . . Mar- 
 shal Kampf, Prince Frederick, and the cuirassiers 
 
 are prisoners I escaped. Beauvais 
 
 gave chase. . . . Wanted to kill me. . . . 
 He gave me this. I ran him through the throat. 
 . . . Knew him in South America. . . . 
 He's dead ! Inform the archbishop and her High- 
 ness that Madame is ncaring the city. The king " 
 
 "Hush !" said von Mitter, with a finger on his 
 lip; "hush! The king died at six o'clock. God 
 rest his soul !" He crossed himself. "A dis- 
 graceful day ! Curse the scheming woman, could 
 she not let us bury him in peace? Prince Fred- 
 erick's father refused to send us aid." 
 
 "I am dying," said Maurice with a sob. "Let 
 me lie down somewhere; if I fall I am a dead 
 man." After a pause: "Take me into the throne 
 room. I shall last till Madame comes. Let her find 
 me there. . . . The brandy !" 
 
 Scharfenstein held the flask to the sufferer's 
 lips. 
 
 "The throne room?" repeated von Mitter, sur- 
 prised at this strange request. "Well, why not? 
 For what is a throne when there is no king to sit 
 on it? You will not die, my friend, though the 
 cut is a nasty one. What is an arm? Life is 
 worth a thousand of them ! Quick ! help me with
 
 410 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 him, Max I" for Maurice was reaching blindly 
 toward him. 
 
 The three troopers who had followed Scharfen- 
 stein came up, and the five of them managed to 
 carry Maurice into the throne room, and deposit 
 him on the cushions at the foot of the dais. There 
 they left him. 
 
 "Bad !" said von Mitter, as he came limping out 
 into the corridor. "And he made such a brave 
 show when he left here this afternoon. I have 
 grown to love the fellow. A gallant man. I 
 knew that the native troops were up to something. 
 So did the Colonel. Ach ! I would give a year 
 of my life to have seen him and Beauvais. To 
 kill Beauvais, the best saber in the kingdom it 
 must have been a fight worthy of the legends. A 
 bad day ! They will laugh at us. But, patience, 
 the archbishop has something to say before the 
 curtain falls. Poor young man ! He will lose 
 his arm, if not his life/' 
 
 "But how comes he into all this?" asked Scharf- 
 enstein, perplexedly. 
 
 "It is not for me or you to question, Max," said 
 von Mitter, looking down. He had his own opin- 
 ion, but he was not minded to disclose it. 
 
 ''What are you going to do?" 
 
 "Perform my duty until the end," sourly. "Go 
 you and help against the students, who have not 
 manliness enough even to respect the dead. The 
 cowardly servants are all gone, save the king's 
 valet. There are only seven of us in all. I will 
 seek the king's physician; the dead are dead, so
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 411 
 
 let us concern ourselves with the living;" and he 
 limped off toward the private apartments. 
 
 Scharfenstein hurried away to the square. 
 
 In the royal bedchamber a girl murmured over 
 a cold hand. "God pity me; I am all, all alone!'' 
 
 The archbishop was kneeling at the foot of the 
 bed. In his heart was the bitterness of loss and 
 defeat. His dreams of greatness for this clay ! The 
 worldly pomp which was to have attended it ! Life 
 was but a warm breath on the mirror of eternity; 
 for one the mirror was clear again. 
 
 The square soon grew quiet; the students and 
 the cuirassiers had met for the last time. In the 
 throne room shadows and silence prevailed. Mau- 
 rice lay upon the cushions, the hilt of the saber 
 still in his hand. Consciousness had returned, a 
 clear, penetrating consciousness. At the foot of 
 the throne, he thought, and, mayhap, close to one 
 not visible to the human eye f What a checker- 
 board he had moved upon, and now the check- 
 mate ! So long as the pain did not diminish, he 
 was content; a sudden ease was what he dreaded. 
 Life was struggling to retain its hold. He 
 did not wish to die; he was young; there were 
 long years to come; the world was beautiful, and 
 to love was the glory over it all. He wondered 
 if Beauvais still lay in the road where he had 
 left him. Again he could see that red saber 
 swinging high; and he shivered. 
 
 Half an hour passed, then canys the distant 
 murmur of voices, which expanded into tumult. 
 The victorious army, the brave and gallant army, 
 had entered the city, and was streaming toward
 
 412 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 the palaces. Huzzas rose amid the blaring of 
 bugles. The timorous came forth and added to 
 the noise. The conquerors trooped into the palace, 
 and Madame the duchess looked with shining eyes 
 at the throne of her forefathers.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 WORMWOOD AND LEES 
 
 Madame, like a statue of expectancy, riveted her 
 gaze- on the throne. Hers at last ! Her dreams 
 were realized. She was no longer a duchess by 
 patent; she was a queen by right of inheritance; 
 she was now to be a power among the great. The 
 kingdom of her forefathers was hers. She had 
 reached the goal without bloodshed; she had been 
 patient, and this was her reward. The blaze of 
 her ambition dimmed all other stars. Her bosom 
 heaved, triumph flashed in her beautiful eyes, and 
 a smile parted her lips. Her first thought had 
 been to establish headquarters in the parlors of 
 the Continental Hotel, and from there to summon 
 the archbishop, as a conqueror summons the chief of 
 the vanquished. But no; she could not wait; 
 above all things she desired the satisfaction of the 
 eye. The throne of her forefathers ! 
 
 "Mine !" she murmured. 
 
 Over her shoulders peered eager faces, in which 
 greed and pleasure and impassibility were written. 
 One face, however, had on it the dull red of shame. 
 Not until now did the full force of his intended 
 dishonesty come home to the Englishman; not until 
 413
 
 414 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 now did he realize the complete degradation to 
 which his uniform had lowered him. His had 
 been the hand to stay this misfortune, and he had 
 not lifted it. This king had been his father's 
 friend; and he had taken up arms against him. 
 0, he had begun life badly ; he was making the 
 end still more dismal. Would this woman ever 
 be his? Her promises were not worth the air that 
 had carried them to his ear. He, the consort of 
 a queen? A cold sweat dampened his forehead. 
 How he loved her ! And that kiss. . . . Queen 
 or not, he would not be her dupe, his would not 
 bo a tame surrender. 
 
 From the Platz and the Park, where the two 
 armies had bivouacked, came an intermittent cheer- 
 ing. The flames of bonfires were reflected on the 
 windows, throwing out in dull, yellow relief the 
 faces of Madame and her staff. 
 
 Between the private apartments of the king and 
 the throne room was a wide sliding door. Sud- 
 denly this opened and closed. With his back 
 against it, a pistol in one hand and a saber in 
 the other, stood Captain von Mitter, his face cold 
 and resolute. All eyes were instantly directed 
 toward him. 
 
 "Captain," said Madame, imperiously, "summon 
 to me Monseigneur the archbishop !" 
 
 Her command fell on ears of stone. Von 
 Mitter made no sign that he heard her. 
 
 "Take care, Monsieur," she warned; "I am 
 mistress here. If you will not obey me, my offi- 
 cers will." 
 
 "Madame, I acknowledge no mistress save the
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 415 
 
 daughter of the king. No one shall pass this 
 door to announce your presence to Monseigneur." 
 
 This reply was greeted with sundry noises, such 
 as sabers coming from scabbards, clicking of pis- 
 tol locks, and the moving of feet. Madame put 
 out her hand suggestively, and the noise ceased. 
 Von Mitter smiled disdainfully, but did not stir. 
 
 "I warn you, Madame," he said, "that this is 
 war. I accept all the responsibilities of my posi- 
 tion. I know nothing of any surrender or vic- 
 tory. To me you are simply an enemy. I will kill 
 any one who attempts to pass. I should be pleased 
 if General Kronau would make the first step to 
 question my sincerity." 
 
 Kronau's fingers twitched around his revolver, 
 but Madame touched his arm. She could read faces. 
 The young Captain was in earnest. She would 
 temporize. 
 
 "Captain, all here are prisoners of war," she 
 said. "Do not forget that soon there will be bene- 
 fits for those who serve me." 
 
 He laughed rudely. "I ask no benefits from 
 your hands, Madame. I would rather stand on 
 the corner and beg." He sent an insolent, con- 
 temptuous glance at Kronau, who could not sup- 
 port it. "And now that you have gratified your 
 curiosity, I beg you to withdraw to the street. 
 To-night this palace is a tomb, and woe to those 
 who commit sacrilege." 
 
 "The king?" she said, struck by a thought 
 which caused a red spot to appear on each cheek. 
 
 "Is dead. Go and leave us in peace." 
 
 The wine which had tasted so sweet was full of
 
 416 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 lees, and the cup wormwood. Madame looked 
 down, while her officers moved uneasily and 
 glanced over their shoulders. Kronau brushed 
 his forehead, to find it wet. Madame regretted the 
 surrendering to the impulse. Her haste to tri- 
 umph was lacking both in dignity and judgment. 
 She had given the king so little place in 
 her thoughts that the shock of his death con- 
 fused her. And there was something in the calm, 
 fearless contempt of the young soldier which em- 
 barrassed her. 
 
 "In that case, Captain," she said, her voice un- 
 certain and constrained, "bid Monseigneur to wait 
 on me at the Continental." 
 
 "Whenever that becomes convenient, Madame, 
 Monseigneur will certainly confer with you and 
 your rascally pack of officers." He longed for 
 some one to spring at him ; he longed to strike a 
 blow in earnest. 
 
 As he leaned against the door he felt it move. 
 He stepped aside. The door rolled back, and her 
 Royal Highness, the archbishop and the chancellor 
 passed in. The princess's eyes were like dim stars, 
 but her fine nostrils palpitated, and her mouth was 
 rigid in disdain. The chancellor looked haggard 
 and dispirited, and he eyed all with the listless- 
 ness of a man who has given up hope. The prel- 
 ate's face was as finely drawn as an ancient cameo, 
 and as immobile. He gazed at Madame with one 
 of those looks which penetrate like acid; and, brave 
 as she was, she found it insupportable. There was 
 a tableau of short duration. 
 
 "Madame," said her Royal Highness, with a
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 417 
 
 noble scorn, "what would you say if one desecrat- 
 ed your father's tomb while you were kneeling 
 beside it? What would you say? In yonder 
 room my father lies dead, and your presence here, 
 in whatever role, is an insult. Are you, indeed, a 
 woman? Have you no respect for death and sor- 
 row? Was the bauble so precious to your sight 
 that you could not wait till the last rites were 
 paid to the dead? Is your heart of stone, your 
 mind devoid of pity and of conscience? Are you 
 lacking in magnanimity, which is the disposition of 
 great souls? Ah, Madame, you will never be great, 
 for you have stooped to treachery and deceit. You, 
 a princess ! You have purchased with glittering 
 promises that which -in time would have been given 
 to you. And you will not fulfill these promises, for 
 honesty has no part in your affairs. Shame on you, 
 Madame. By dishonorable means you have gained 
 this room. By dishonorable means you destroyed 
 all those props on which my father leaned. You 
 knew that he had not long to live. Had you come 
 to me as a woman; had you opened your heart to 
 me and confided your desires Ah, Madame, how 
 gladly would I have listened. Whatever it signifies 
 to you, this throne is nothing to me. Had you come 
 then but, no ! you must come to demand your rights 
 when I am defenseless. You must come with a 
 sword when there is none to defend. Is it possible 
 that in our veins there runs a kindred blood? And 
 yet, Madame, I forgive you. Rule here, if you will ; 
 but remember, between you and your crown there 
 will always be the shadow of disgrace. Monsieur,"
 
 418 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 turning toward Fitzgerald, whose shame was so great 
 that it engulfed him, "your father and mine were 
 friends I forgive you. Now, Madame, I pray you, 
 go, and leave me with my dead." 
 
 The girlhood of Princess Alexia was gone for- 
 ever. 
 
 To Madame this rebuke was like hot iron on 
 the flesh. It left her without answer. Her proud 
 spirit writhed. Before those innocent eyes her 
 soul lay bare, offering to the gaze an ineffaceable 
 scar. For the first time she saw her schemes in 
 their true light. Had any served her unselfishly? 
 Aye, there was one. And strangely enough, the 
 first thought which formed in her mind when 
 chaos was passed, was of him. 
 
 How would this rebuke affect her in his eyes? 
 What was he to her that she cared for his respect, 
 his opinion, good or bad? What was the mean- 
 ing of the secret dread? How she hated him for his 
 honesty to her; for now perforce she must look up 
 to him. She had stepped down from the pinnacle 
 of her pride to which she might never again ascend. 
 He had kissed her. How she hated him ! And yet 
 . . . Ah, the wine was flat, tinctured with the 
 bitterness of gall, and her own greed had forced 
 the cup to her lips. She could not remain silent 
 before this girl; she must reply; her shame was 
 too deep to resolve itself into silence. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," she said, "I beg of you to ac- 
 cept my sympathies; but the fortunes of war " 
 
 "Ah, Madame," interrupted the prelate, lifting 
 his white, attenuated hand, "we will discuss the 
 fortunes of war later."
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 419 
 
 Madame choked back the sudden gust of rage. 
 She glanced covertly at the Englishman. But he, 
 with wide-astonished eyes, was staring at the foot 
 of the throne, from which gradually rose a terri- 
 ble figure, covered with blood and caked with drying 
 clay. The figure leaned heavily on the hilt of a 
 saber, and swayed unsteadily. He drew all eyes. 
 
 "Ha !" he said, with a prolonged, sardonic in- 
 tonation, "is that you, Madame the duchess? You 
 are talking of war ? What ! and you, my lord the 
 Englishman ? Ha ! and war ? Look at me, 
 Madame; I have been in a battle, the only one 
 fought to-day. Look at me ! Here is the mark 
 of that friend who watched over your interests. 
 But where is he? Eh? Where? Did you pick 
 him up on the way? .... He is dead. For 
 all that he was a rascal, he died like a man. . . 
 . . as presently I shall die ! Princes and kings 
 and thrones; the one die and the other crumble, 
 but truth lives on. And you, Madame, have 
 learned the truth. Shame on your mean and lit- 
 tle souls ! There was only one honest man among 
 you, and you dishonored him. The Marshal 
 . . . I do not see him. An honest man dies 
 but once, but a traitor dies a thousand deaths. 
 Kronau .... is that your name? It was 
 an honest one once. And the paltry ends you 
 gain! .... The grand duchess of Gerol- 
 stein ! . . ". . What a comic opera ! Not 
 even music to go by ! Eh, you, you Englishman, 
 has Madame made you a Lieutenant? a Cap- 
 tain ? a General ? What a farce ! Nobles, you ? 
 I laugh at you all for a pack of thieves, who are
 
 420 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 not content with the purse, but must add honor 
 to the bag. A man is what he makes himself. 
 Medals and clothes, medals and clothes; that is the 
 sum of your nobility !" He laughed, but the laugh- 
 ter choked in his throat, and he staggered a few 
 paces away from the throne. 
 
 "Seize him !" cried Madame. 
 
 When the men sprang forward to execute this 
 command, Fitzgerald barred the way. 
 
 "No," he said doggedly; "you shall not touch 
 him." 
 
 "Stand aside, Monsieur," said Madame, deter- 
 mined to vent her rage on some one. 
 
 "Madame," said von Mitter, "I will shoot down 
 the first man who lays a hand on Monsieur Ca- 
 rewe." 
 
 The princess, her heart beating wildly at the 
 sudden knowledge that lay written on the innrr 
 vision, a faintness stealing away her sight, leaned 
 back against the prelate. 
 
 "He is dying," she whispered; "he is dying 
 for me !" 
 
 Maurice was now in the grasp of the final delir- 
 ium. "Come on!" he cried; "come on! I will 
 show you how a brave man can die. Come on, 
 Messieurs Medals and Clothes ! Aye, who will go 
 out with me?" He raised the saber, and it caught 
 the flickering light as it trailed a circle above his 
 head. He stumbled toward them, sweeping the 
 air with the blade. Suddenly there came a change. 
 He stopped. The wild expression faded from his 
 face; a surprised look came instead. The saber 
 slipped from his fingers and clanged on the floor.
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 421 
 
 He turned and looked at the princess, and that 
 glance conveyed to her the burden of his love. 
 "Mademoiselle .... His knees doubled, 
 
 he sank, rolled face downward, and a dark stain 
 appeared and widened on the marble floor. 
 
 "Go, Madame," said the prelate. "This palace 
 is indeed a tomb." He felt the princess grow limp 
 on his arm. "Go." 
 
 "Maurice !" cried Fitzgerald, springing to the 
 side of the fallen man. "My God! Maurice!"
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII 
 
 INTO THE HANDS OF AUSTRIA 
 
 Madame, surrounded by her staff and courtiers, 
 sat in the main salon of the Continental Hotel, 
 waiting for the archbishop. The false, self- 
 seeking ministers of Leopold's reign crowded 
 around her to pay their respects, to compliment and 
 to flatter her. Already they saw a brilliant court; 
 already they were speculating on their appoint- 
 ments. Offices were plenty; new embassies were to 
 be created, old embassies to be filled anew. 
 
 Madame listened to all coldly. There was a canker 
 in her heart, and no one who saw that calm, beau- 
 tiful face of hers dreamed how deeply the canker 
 was eating. There were two men who held aloof 
 from compliments and flattery. On the face of 
 one rested a moody scowl; on the other, agony and 
 remorse. These two men were Colonel Mollen- 
 dorf and Lord Fitzgerald. The same thought oc- 
 cupied each mind; the scene in the throne room. 
 
 Presently an orderly announced: "Monseigneur 
 the archbishop." 
 
 Madame arose, and all looked expectantly 
 toward the door. 
 
 The old prelate entered, his head high and his 
 422
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 423 
 
 step firm. He appeared to see no one but Ma- 
 dame. But this time she met his glance without a 
 tremor. 
 
 "Monseigneur," she began, "I have come into 
 my own at last. But for you and your ambitious 
 schemes, all this would not have come to pass. 
 You robbed my father of his throne and set your 
 puppet there instead. By trickery my father was 
 robbed of his lawful inheritance. By trickery I 
 was compelled to regain it. However, I do not 
 wish to make an enemy of you, Monseigneur. I 
 have here two letters. They come from Eome. 
 In one is your recall, in the other a cardinal's hat. 
 Which do you prefer?" 
 
 "Surely not the cardinal's hat," said the prel- 
 ate. "Listen to me, Madame, for I have some- 
 thing to say to you which will cause you some 
 reflection. If I had any ambitions, they are gone ; 
 if I had any dreams, they have vanished. Madame, 
 some twenty years ago your duchy was created. It 
 was not done to please Albrecht's younger brother, 
 the duke, your father. Albrecht was childless. 
 When your father was given the duchy it was done 
 to exclude forever the house of Auersperg from 
 reigning on this throne. You say that you were 
 tricked; well, and so was I. Unhappily I touched 
 the deeper current too late. 
 
 "This poor king, who lies silent in the palace, 
 was not my puppet. I wished to make him great, 
 and bask in his greatness. But in that I failed; 
 because Leopold was a poet and a philosopher, and 
 the greatness of earthly things did not concern 
 him. Leopold and I were dupes of Austria, as you
 
 424 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 are at this moment, Madame. So long as Leopold 
 reigned peacefully he was not to be disturbed. Had 
 you shown patience and resignation, doubtless to- 
 day you would be a queen. You will never be 
 more than a duchess. 
 
 "Madame, you have done exactly as Austria in- 
 tended you should. There is no longer any king- 
 dom." There was a subdued triumph in his eyes. 
 "To you," with a gesture toward the courtiers and 
 office-seekers, "to you I shall say, your own blind 
 self-interest has destroyed you. Madame, you are 
 bearing arms not against this kingdom, but against 
 Austria, since from to-day this land becomes the 
 property of the imperial crown. If you struggle, 
 it will be futilely. For, by this move of yours, 
 Austria will declare that this kingdom is a menace 
 to the tranquility of the confederation. Madame, 
 there is no corner-stone to your edifice. This is 
 what I wished to say to you. I have done. Permit 
 me to withdraw." 
 
 For a moment his auditors were spellbound; 
 then all the emotions of the mind and heart por- 
 trayed themselves on the circle of faces. Ma- 
 dame's face alone was inscrutable. 
 
 "His Excellency, the Austrian ambassador!" 
 announced the orderly. 
 
 The archbishop bowed and left the apartment. 
 
 "Your Highness," began the Austrian, "his Im- 
 perial Majesty commands your immediate evacu- 
 ation of Bleiberg, and that you delay not your depart- 
 ure to the frontier. This kingdom is a crown 
 land. It shall remain so by the consent of the 
 confederation. If you refuse to obey this injunc-
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 425 
 
 tion, an army will enforce the order. Believe me, 
 Madame, this office is distasteful to me, but it was 
 not avoidable. What disposition am I to submit 
 to his Majesty?" 
 
 "Monsieur," she said, "I am without choice in the 
 matter. To pit my forces against the emperor's 
 would be neither politic nor sensible. I submit." 
 There was not a sign of any emotion, no hint of the 
 terrible wrath which lay below the surface of those 
 politely modulated tones. But it seemed to her as 
 she stood there, the object of all eyes, that some 
 part of her soul had died. Her pride surmounted 
 the humiliation, the pride of a woman and a prin- 
 cess. She would show no weakness to the world. 
 
 "Then, Madame," said the ambassador, sup- 
 pressing the admiration in his eyes at this evi- 
 dence of royal nonchalance, "I shall inform his 
 Majesty at once." 
 
 When he had gone, Madame turned coldly to 
 her stricken followers. "Messieurs, the fortunes 
 of war are not on our side. I thank you for your 
 services. Now leave me; I wish to be alone." 
 
 One by one they filed out into the corridors. 
 The orderly was the last to leave, and he closed 
 the door behind him. Madame surveyed the 
 room. All the curtains were drawn. She was 
 alone. She stood idly fingering the papers which 
 lay scattered on the table. Suddenly she lifted 
 her hands above her head and clenched them in 
 a burst of silent rage. A dupe ! doubly a dupe ! 
 To-morrow the whole world would laugh at her, 
 and she was without means of wreaking ven- 
 geance. Presently the woman rose above the
 
 426 THE PUPPET CKOWN 
 
 princess. She sat down, laid her face on her 
 arms and wept. 
 
 Fitzgerald stepped from behind one of the cur- 
 tains. He had taken refuge there during the 
 archbishop's speech. He had not the strength to 
 witness the final humiliation of the woman he 
 loved. He was gazing out of the window at the 
 troops in the Platz when the door closed. 
 
 Madame heard the rustle of the curtain and 
 looked up. She sprang to her feet, her eyes blaz- 
 ing. 
 
 "You ?" she cried. "You ? You have dared to 
 hide that you might witness my weakness and my 
 tears? You. . . ." 
 
 "Madame I" 
 
 "Go! I hate you!" 
 
 "Ah, Madame, we always hate those whom we 
 have wronged. Do not forget that I love you, 
 with a love that passes convention." 
 
 "Monsieur, I am yet a princess. Did you not 
 hear me bid you go?" 
 
 "Why?" in a voice singularly free from agita- 
 tion. "Because I am the only man who has 
 served you unselfishly? Is that the reason, Ma- 
 dame? You have laughed at me. I love you. 
 You have broken me. I love you. I can never 
 look an honest man in the face again. I love you. 
 Though the shade of my father should rise to ac- 
 cuse me, still would I say that I love you. Ma- 
 dame, will you find another love like mine, the 
 first love of a man who will know no second? 
 Forgive me if I rejoice in your despair, for your 
 despair is my hope. As a queen you would be
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 427 
 
 too far away; but in your misfortune you come so 
 near! Madame, I shall follow you wherever you 
 go to tell you that I love you. You will never 
 be able to shut your ears to my voice; far or near, 
 you will always hear me saying that I love you. 
 Ambition soars but a little way; love has no fet- 
 ters. Madame, your lips were given to me. Qan 
 you forget that?" 
 
 "Monsieur, what do you wish?" subdued by the 
 fervor of his tones. 
 
 "You! nothing in the world but you." 
 
 "Princesses such as I am do not wed for iove. 
 What! you take advantage of my misfortune, the 
 shattering of my dreams, to force your love upon 
 me?" 
 
 "Madame," the pride of his race lighting his 
 eyes, "confess to me that you did not win my love 
 to play with it. If my heart was necessary to 
 your happiness, which lay in these shattered 
 dreams, tell me, and I will go. My love is so 
 great that it does not lack generosity." 
 
 For reply she sorted the papers and extended a 
 blood-stained packet toward him. "Here, Monsieur, 
 are your consols." But the moment his hand touched 
 them, she made as though to take them back. On 
 the top of the packet was the letter she had writ- 
 ten to him, and on which he had written his scorn- 
 ful reply to her. She paled as she saw him un- 
 fold it. 
 
 "So, Madame, my love was a pastime?" He 
 came close to her, and his look was like an invisi- 
 ble hand bearing down on her. "Madame, I will go.''
 
 428 THE PUPPET CROWX 
 
 "No, no!" she cried, yielding to the impulse 
 which suddenly laid hold of her. "Not you! 
 You shall not misjudge me. No, not you ! Those 
 consols were given to me by the woman of your 
 guide, Kopf, who found them no one knows how. 
 They were given to me this morning. That let- 
 ter I did net intend that you should 
 
 see* it. No, Monsieur; you shall not misjudge the 
 woman, however you judge the princess. Forgive 
 me, it was not the woman who sought your love; 
 it was the princess who had need of it. 
 
 "I thought it would be but a passing fancy. I 
 did not dream of this end. To-morrow I shall be 
 laughed at, and I cannot defend myself as a man 
 can. I must submit; I must smile and cover my 
 chagrin. 0, Monsieur, do not speak to me of love; 
 there is nothing in my heart but rage and bitter- 
 ness. To stoop as I have stooped, and in vain ! 
 I am defeated; I must remain passive; like a 
 whipped child I am driven away. Talk not of love 
 to me. I am without illusion." She fell to weep- 
 ing, and to him she was lovelier in her tears than 
 ever in her smiles. For would she have shown this 
 weakness to any but himself, and was it not a sign 
 that he was not wholly indifferent to her? 
 
 "Madame, what is it?" he cried, on his knees 
 before her. "What is it? Do you wish a crown? 
 Find me a kingdom, and I will buy it for you. Be 
 mine, and woe to those who dare to laugh ! Ah, 
 could I but convince }'ou that love is above crowns 
 and kingdoms, the only glimpse we have on earth 
 of Paradise. There is no boundary to the dreams ; 
 no horizons; a vast, beautiful wilderness, and you
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 429 
 
 and I together. There are no storms, no clouds. 
 Ambition, the god of schemes, finds no entrance. 
 Ah, how I love you ! Your face is ever before me, 
 waking or sleeping. All thoughts are merged into 
 one, and that is of you. Self has dropped out of 
 my existence. Forget that you are a princess; re- 
 member only that you are a woman, and that I love 
 you." 
 
 Love has the key to eloquence. Madame for- 
 got her vanished dreams; the bitterness in her 
 heart subsided. That mysterious, indefinable 
 thrill, which every woman experiences when a 
 boundless love is laid at her feet, passed through 
 her, leaving her sensible to a delicious languor. 
 This man was strong in himself, yet weak before 
 her, and from his weakness she gained a visible 
 strength. Convention was nothing to him; that 
 she was of royal blood was still less. What other 
 man would have dared her wrath as he had done? 
 
 Xobility, she thought, was based on the 
 observance of certain laws. Around the central 
 star were lesser stars, from which the central star 
 drew its- radiance. Whenever one of these stars 
 deviates from its orbit, the glory of the central 
 star is diminished. To accept the love of the 
 Englishman would be a blow to the pride of Aus- 
 tria. She smiled. 
 
 "Monsieur," she said, in a hesitating voice, "Mon- 
 sieur, I am indeed a woman. You ask me if I can 
 forget that I offered you my lips? No. Nor do I 
 wish to. Why did I permit you to kiss me? I do 
 not know. I could not analyze the impulse 1 if I 
 tried. Monsieur, I am a woman who demands
 
 130 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 much from those who serve her. I am capricious; 
 my moods vary; I am unfamiliar with sentiment; 
 I hate oftener than I love. Listen. There is u 
 canker in my heart, made there by vanity. When 
 it heals well mayhap you will find the woman 
 you desire. Mind you, I make no promises. Fol- 
 low me, if you will, hut have patience; love me if 
 you must, but in silence;" and with a gesture 
 which was not without a certain fondness, she laid 
 her hand upon his head.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 INTO STILL WATERS AND SILENCE 
 
 Into the princess's own chamber they car- 
 ried Maurice, and laid him on the white bed. 
 Thus would she have it. Xo young man had ever 
 before entered that sacred chapel of her maiden 
 dreams. Beside the bed was a small prie-dieu; 
 and she knelt upon the cushion and rested her 
 brow against the crucifix. The archbishop cov- 
 ered his eyes, and the state physician bent his head. 
 Chastity and innocence at the feet of God; yet, 
 not even these can hold back the fleeting breath 
 of life. She asked God to forgive her the bitter- 
 ness in her heart; she prayed for strength to repel 
 the weakness in her limbs. Presently she rose, 
 an angelic sweetness on her face. She looked 
 down at Maurice; there was no sign of life, save 
 in the fitful drawing in of the nether lip. She 
 dampened a cloth and wiped the sweat of agony 
 from the marble brow. 
 
 "0, if only he might live!" she cried. "And he 
 will not?" 
 
 "Xo, your Highness," said the physician. "He 
 has perhaps an hour. Extraordinary vitality 
 alone is the cause of his living so long. He has 
 431
 
 433 THE PUPPET CROWN 
 
 lost nearly all the blood in his body. It was a 
 frightful wound. He is dying, but he may return 
 to consciousness before the end. 
 
 The archbishop, with somber eyes, contemplat- 
 ed the pale, handsome face, which lay motionless 
 against the pillow. His thoughts flew back to his 
 own youthj to the long years which had filled the 
 gap between. Friends had come and gone, loved 
 ones vanished; and still he stood, like an oak in 
 the heart of a devastated forest, alone. Why had 
 he been spared, and to what end? Ah, how old 
 he was, how very old ! To live beyond the allotted 
 time, was not that a punishment for some trans- 
 gression? His eyes shone through a mist of 
 tears. 
 
 The princess, too, contemplated the face of the 
 dying man. How many times had that face ac- 
 companied her in her dreams ! How familiar she 
 was with every line of it, the lips, that turned 
 inward when they smiled; the certain lock of hair 
 that fell upon the forehead ! And yet, she had 
 seen the face in reality less than half a dozen 
 times. Why had it entered so persistently into 
 her dreams? Why had the flush risen to her 
 cheeks at the thought? At another time she would 
 have refused to listen to the voice which answered ; 
 but now, as the object of her thoughts lay dying 
 on her pillow, her mind would not play truant to 
 her heart. Sometimes the approach of love is so 
 imperceptible that it does not provoke analysis. 
 We wake suddenly to find it in our hearts, so 
 strong and splendid that we submit without ques- 
 tion. . . . All, all her dreams had vanished,
 
 THE PUPPET CKOWN 433 
 
 the latest and the fairest. Across the azure of 
 her youth had come and gone a vague, beautiful 
 flash of love. The door of earthly paradise had 
 opened and closed. That delicate string which 
 vibrates with the joy of living seemed parted; her 
 heart was broken, and her young breast a tomb. 
 With straining eyes she continued to gaze. The 
 invisible arms of her love clasped Maurice to her 
 heart and held him there. Only that day he had 
 stood before her, a delight to the eye; and she had 
 given him her hand to kiss. How bravely he had 
 gone forth from the city ! She had followed 
 him with her ardent gaze until he was no longer 
 to be seen. And now he lay dying. . . . for 
 her. 
 
 "Monsieur," she said, turning to the physician, 
 "I have something to say to Monseigneur." 
 
 The physician bowed and passed into the bou- 
 doir, the door of which he closed. 
 
 "Father," she said to the prelate, "I have no 
 secrets from you'." She pointed to Maurice. "I 
 love him. I know not why. He comes from a 
 foreign land; his language nor his people are mine, 
 and yet the thought of him has filled my soul. I 
 have talked to him but four different times; and 
 yet I love him. Why? I can not tell. The mind 
 has no power to rule the impulse of love. Were 
 he to live, perhaps my love would be a sin. Is it 
 not strange, father, that I love him? I have lost 
 parental love; I am losing a love a woman holds 
 priceless above all others. He is dying because 
 of me. He loves me. I read it in his eyes just 
 before he fell. Perhaps it is better for him and
 
 434 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 for me that he should die, for if he lived I could 
 not live without him. Father, do I sin?" 
 
 "No, my child/' and the prelate closed his eyes. 
 
 "I have been so lonely," she said, "so alone. 
 I craved the love of the young. He was so differ- 
 ent from any man I had met before. His bright, 
 handsome face seemed constantly with me." 
 
 At this moment Maurice's breast rose and fell 
 in a long sigh. Presently the lids of his eyes 
 rolled upward. Consciousness had returned. His 
 wandering gaze first encountered the sad, austere 
 visage of the prelate. 
 
 "Monseigneur ?" he said, faintly. 
 
 "Do you wish absolution, my son?" 
 
 "I am dying. . . . ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I am dying. . . . God has my account and 
 he will judge it. I am not a Catholic, Monseig- 
 neur." He turned his head. "Your Highness?" 
 He roved about the room with his eyes and dis- 
 cerned the feminine touch in all the appointments. 
 "Where am I?" 
 
 "You are in my room, Monsieur," she said. 
 Her voice broke, but she met his eyes with a brave 
 smile. "Is there anything we can do for you?" 
 
 "Nothing. I am alone. To die. . . . Well, 
 one time or another. And yet, it is a beautiful 
 world, when we but learn it, full of color and life 
 and love. I am young; I do not wish to die. And 
 now . . . even in the midst ... to go 
 . . . where? Monseigneur, I am dying; to 
 me princes and kings signify nothing. That is not 
 to say that they ever did. In the presence of death
 
 THE PUPPET CROWN 435 
 
 we are all equal. Living, I might not speak; dy- 
 ing . . . since I have but a little while to stay 
 . . . I may speak?" 
 
 "Yes, my son, speak. Her Highness will listen." 
 "It is to her Highness that I wish to speak." 
 Her lips quivered and she made no secret of her 
 tears. "What is it you wish to say to me, Monsieur 
 Carewe'f She smoothed his forehead, and the 
 touch of her hand made him forget his pain. 
 
 "Ah, I know not how to begin," he said. "For- 
 give me if I offend your ears. ... I have been 
 foolish even to dream of it, but I could not help it. 
 . . . When first I saw you in the garden . . 
 the old dog was beside you. . . . Even then it 
 came to me that my future was linked to 
 the thought of you. I did not know you were so 
 far beyond. ... I was very cold, but I dared 
 not let you know it, for fear you would lead me at 
 once to the gate. That night wherever I looked 
 I saw you. I strove to think of some way to serve 
 you, but I could not. I was so obscure. I never 
 thought that you would remember me again; but 
 you did. . . . That afternoon in the carriage 
 . . . I wanted to tell you then. That rose you 
 dropped . . . it is still on my heart. I loved 
 you, and to this end. And I am glad to die, for in 
 this short fortnight I have lived. . . . My 
 mother used to call me Maurice ... to hear 
 a woman repeat it again before I go." 
 
 "Maurice." She took his hand timidly in hers, 
 and looked at the archbishop. 
 
 "Speak to him from your heart, my child," said 
 the prelate. "It will comfort you both."
 
 436 THE PUPPET CEOWN 
 
 Suddenly she drooped and the tears fell upon 
 the hand in hers. "Maurice," she whispered, "you 
 have not loved in vain." She could utter no more; 
 but she raised her head and looked into his eyes, 
 and he saw the glory of the world in hers. 
 
 "Into still waters and silence/' he said softly. 
 "Xo more pain, nor joy, nor love; silence. . . . 
 You love me ! . . . Alexia ; how often have I 
 repeated that name to myself. ... I have not 
 strength to lift your hand to my lips." 
 
 She kissed him on the lips. She felt as if she, 
 too, were dying. 
 
 "God guard your Highness," he said. "It is 
 dark. ... I do not see you. . . . 
 
 He tried to raise himself, but he could not. He 
 sank back, settled deeply into the pillow, and 
 smiled. After that he lay very still. 
 
 THE END.
 
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