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 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.O, 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 be a tame surrender.
From the Platz and the Park, where the two armies had bivouacked, came an intermittent cheering.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.Suddenly 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 officers will.""Madame, I acknowledge no mistress save the 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 pistol 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 position.I know nothing of any surrender or victory.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 benefits for those who serve me."He laughed rudely."I ask no benefits from your hands, Madame.Iwould rather stand on the corner and beg." He sent an insolent, contemptuous glance at Kronau, who could not support 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 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 triumph was lacking both in dignity and judgment.
She had given the king so little place in her thoughts that the shock of his death confused her.And there was something in the calm, fearless contempt of the young soldier which embarrassed her.
"In that case, Captain," she said, her voice uncertain 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 listlessness of a man who has given up hope.
The prelate'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.
