"Your cause is just, I will admit, but do not tarnish it by such detestable means.'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 indefinable, 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 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! Ihave 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 intend 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 several 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 your post." She turned to Maurice, who was puzzled 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 Brunnstadt, 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, Monsieur.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 myself in my own eyes? No woman lives who is prouder than I.Remember, 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 about your business and not intruded where you were not wanted, neither you nor your friend would be here.No interference from you, Monsieur; 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 thoughtful 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 perturbation.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; rollicking gavots, Hungarian dances, low and slumbrous 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.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.
