Kitabı oku: «The Great Court Scandal», sayfa 3
Chapter Four
His Majesty Cupid
As the twilight fell on the following afternoon a fiacre drew up before the Hotel Imperial, one of the best and most select hotels in the Kartner Ring, in Vienna, and from it descended a lady attired in the deep mourning of a widow.
Of the gold-laced concierge she inquired for Count Carl Leitolf, and was at once shown into the lift and conducted to a private sitting-room on the second floor, where a young, fair-moustached, good-looking man, with well-cut, regular features and dark brown eyes, rose quickly as the door opened and the waiter announced her.
The moment the door had closed and they were alone he took his visitor’s hand and raised it reverently to his lips, bowing low, with the exquisite grace of the born courtier.
In an instant she drew it from him and threw back her veil, revealing her pale, beautiful face – the face of her Imperial Highness the Crown Princess Claire.
“Highness!” the man exclaimed, glancing anxiously at the door to reassure himself that it was closed, “I had your note this morning, but – but are you not running too great a risk by coming here? I could not reply, fearing that my letter might fall into other hands; otherwise I would on no account have allowed you to come. You may have been followed. There are, as you know, spies everywhere.”
“I have come, Carl, because I wish to speak to you,” she said, looking unflinchingly into his handsome face. “I wish to know by what right you have followed me here – to Vienna?”
He drew back in surprise, for her attitude was entirely unexpected.
“I came here upon my own private affairs,” he answered.
“That is not the truth,” she declared in quick resentment. “You are here because you believed that you might meet me at the reception after the State dinner to-night. You applied for a card for it in order that you could see me – and this, after what passed between us the other day! Do you consider that you are treating me fairly? Cannot you see that your constant attentions are compromising me and causing people to talk?”
“And what, pray, does your Imperial Highness care for this idle Court gossip?” asked the well-dressed, athletic-looking man, at the same time placing a chair for her and bowing her to it. “There has been enough of it already, and you have always expressed the utmost disregard of anything that might be said, or any stories that might be invented.”
“I know,” she answered. “But this injudicious action of yours in following me here is utter madness. It places me in peril. You are known in Vienna, remember.”
“Then if that is your view, your Highness, I can only apologise,” he said most humbly. “I will admit that I came here in order to be able to get a few minutes’ conversation with you to-night. At our Court at home you know how very difficult it is for me to speak with you, for the sharp eye of the Trauttenberg is ever upon you.”
The Princess’s arched brows contracted slightly. She recollected what Steinbach had revealed to her regarding her lady-in-waiting.
“And it is surely best that you should have difficulty in approaching me,” she said. “I have not forgotten your foolish journey to Paris, where I had gone incognito to see my old nurse, and how you compelled me to go out and see the sights in your company. We were recognised. Do you know that?” she exclaimed in a hard voice. “A man who knew us both sent word to Court that we were in Paris together.”
“Recognised!” he gasped, the colour fading instantly from his face. “Who saw us?”
“Of his identity I’m not aware,” she answered, for she was a clever diplomatist, and could keep a secret well. She did not reveal Scheel’s name. “I only know that our meeting in Paris is no secret. They suspect me, and I have you to thank for whatever scandal may now be invented concerning us.”
The lithe, clean-limbed man was silent, his head bent before her. What could he reply? He knew, alas! too well, that in following her from Germany to Paris he had acted very injudiciously. She was believed to be taking the baths at Aix, but a sudden caprice had seized her to run up to Paris and see her old French nurse, to whom she was much attached. He had learnt her intention in confidence, and had met her in Paris and shown her the city. It had been an indiscretion, he admitted.
Yet the recollection of those few delightful days of freedom remained like a pleasant dream. He recollected her childish delight of it all. It was out of the season, and they believed that they could go hither and thither, like the crowds of tourists do, without fear of recognition. Yet Fate, it seemed, had been against them, and their secret meeting was actually known!
“Cannot you see the foolishness of it all?” she asked in a low, serious voice. “Cannot you see, Carl, that your presence here lends colour to their suspicions? I have enemies – fierce, bitter enemies – as you must know too well, and yet you imperil me like this!” she cried reproachfully.
“I can make no defence, Princess,” he said lamely. “I can only regret deeply having caused you any annoyance.”
“Annoyance!” she echoed in anger. “Your injudicious actions have placed me in the greatest peril. The people have coupled our names, and you are known to have followed me on here.”
Her companion was silent, his eyes downcast, as though not daring to meet her reproachful gaze.
“I have been foolish – very foolish, I know,” she cried. “In the old days, when we knew each other at Wartenstein, a boy-and-girl affection sprang up between us; and then, when you left the University, they sent you as attaché to the Embassy in London, and we gradually forgot each other. You grew tired of diplomacy, and returned to find me the wife of the Crown Prince; and in a thoughtless moment I promised, at your request, to recommend you to a post in the private cabinet of the King. Since that day I have always regretted. I ought never to have allowed you to return. I am as much to blame as you are, for it was an entirely false step. Yet how was I to know?”
“True, my Princess!” said the man in a low, choking voice. “How were you to know that I still loved you in silence, that I was aware of the secret of your domestic unhappiness, that I – ”
“Enough!” she cried, drawing herself up. “The word love surely need not be spoken between us. I know it all, alas! Yet I beg of you to remember that I am the wife of another, and a woman of honour.”
“Ah yes,” he exclaimed, his trembling hand resting on the back of the chair upon which she sat. “Honour – yes. I love you, Claire – you surely know that well. But we do not speak of it; it is a subject not to be discussed by us. Day after day, unable to speak to you, I watch you in silence. I know your bitterness in that gilded prison they call the Court, and long always to help you and rescue you from that – that man to whom you are, alas! wedded. It is all so horrible, so loathsome, that I recoil when I see him smiling upon you while at heart he hates you. For weeks, since last we spoke together, how I have lived I scarcely know – utter despair, insane hopes alternately possess me – but at last the day came, and I followed you here to speak with you, my Princess.”
She remained silent, somewhat embarrassed, as he took her gloved hand and again kissed it.
She was nervous, but next instant determined.
“Alas! I have not failed to notice your strong affection for me, Carl,” she said with a heavy sigh, her beautiful face slightly flushed. “You must therefore control this passion that seems to have been rekindled within your heart. For my sake go, and forget me,” she implored. “Resign your appointment, and re-enter the diplomatic service of the Emperor. I will speak to Lindenau, who will give you an appointment, say, in Rome or Paris. But you must not remain at Treysa. I – I will not allow it.”
“But, Princess,” he cried in dismay, “I cannot go and leave you there alone among your enemies. You – ”
“You must; for, unintentionally, because you have my interests at heart, you are my worst enemy. You are indiscreet, just as every man is who loves a woman truly.”
“Then you really believe I love you still, Claire,” he cried, bending towards her. “You remember those delightfully happy days at Wartenstein long ago, when – ”
She held up her hand to stop the flow of his words.
He looked at her. For an instant her glance wavered and shrank.
She was his idol, the beautiful idol with eyes like heaven.
Yes, she was very beautiful – beautiful with all the beauty of woman now, not with the beauty of the girl.
And she, with her sad gaze fixed upon him, remembered all the past – the great old castle in the far-off Tyrol, her laughter at his awkwardness; their chats in English when both were learning that language; the quarrel over the lilac blossom. At Arcachon – the shore and the pine forest; the boyish kiss stolen under the mistletoe; the declaration of their young love on that lonely mountain-side with the world lying at their feet; the long, sweet, silent kisses exchanged on their homeward walk; the roses she had given him as farewell pledge when he had left for London.
All had gone – gone for ever.
Nevertheless, though everything was past, she could not resist an impulse to recall it – oh, very briefly – in a few feeling words, as one may recall some sweet and rapturous dream.
“We were very foolish,” she said.
He was silent. His heart was too full for words. He knew that a woman who can look back on the past – on rapture, delight, the first thrilling kiss, the first fervent vow – and say, “We were very foolish,” is a woman changed beyond recall.
In other days, had he heard such sacrilegious words a cry of horror would have sprung from his lips. But now, though he shuddered with anguish, he simply said, —
“I shall always remember it, Princess;” adding, with a glance at her, “and you.”
Her wonderful eyes shrank once more and her lips quivered, as though for one second touched again by the light wing of love – as if, indeed, she felt she had done something unworthy of her, something which might bring her regret hereafter.
In the midst of his confusion, the man remained victorious. She would never be his, and yet she would be his for ever. No matter how she might strive, she would never entirely forget.
She sighed, and rising, walked unsteadily to the window, where, below, the street lamps were just being lit. Daylight had faded, and in the room it was almost dark.
“To-night, Carl, we meet for the last time,” she said with an effort, in a hard, strained voice. “Both for you and for me it is best that we should part and forget. I did wrong to recommend you to the post at Court, and I ought to have foreseen the grave peril of the situation. Fortunately, I have realised it in time, even though our enemies already believe ill and invent lies concerning us. You must not return to Court. Remember, I forbid you. To-night, at the State dinner, I will speak to Lindenau and ask him to send you as attaché to Rome or to Petersburg. It is the wisest course.”
“Then your Highness really intends to banish me?” he said hoarsely, in a low, broken voice of reproach.
“Yes,” she faltered. “I – I must – Carl – to – to save myself.”
“But you are cruel – very cruel – Princess,” he cried, his voice trembling with emotion.
“You must realise my peril,” she said seriously. “Your presence at Court increases my danger hourly, because” – and she hesitated – “because, Carl, I confess to you that I do not forget – I never shall forget,” she added as the tears sprang to her blue eyes. “Therefore, go! Let me bear my own burden as best I can alone, and let me remember you as what you have always been – chivalrous to an unhappy woman; a man of honour.”
Slowly she moved across the room towards the door, but he arrested her progress, and took her small hand quickly in his grasp.
For some moments, in the falling gloom, he looked into her sweet, tearful face without speaking; then crushing down the lump that arose in his throat, he raised to his hot, passionate lips the hand of the woman he loved, and, imprinting upon it a tender, lingering kiss, murmured, —
“Adieu, Claire – my Princess – my first, my only love!” She drew her hand away as his passionate words fell upon her ear, sighed heavily, and in silence opened the door and passed out from his presence.
And thus were two brave hearts torn asunder.
Chapter Five
Some Suspicions
State dinners, those long, tedious affairs at which the conversation is always stilted and the bearing of everybody is stiff and unnatural, always bored the Crown Princess Claire to death.
Whenever she could she escaped them; but as a Crown Princess she was compelled by Court etiquette to undergo ordeals which, to a woman not educated as an Imperial Archduchess, would have been impossible. She had trained herself to sit for hours smiling and good-humoured, although at heart she hated all that glittering formality and rich display. There were times when at her own Court at Treysa, at the military anniversary dinners that were so often held, she had been compelled to sit at table with her husband and the guests for four and five hours on end, without showing any sign of fatigue beyond taking her smelling-salts from the hand of her lady-in-waiting. Yet she never complained, though the eating, and more especially the drinking, disgusted her. It was a duty – one of the many wearisome, soul-killing duties which devolve upon a Crown Princess – of which the world at large is in utter ignorance. Therefore she accepted it in silence, yet bored always by meeting and speaking with the same circle of people day after day – a small circle which was ever intriguing, ever consumed by its own jealousies, ever striving for the favour of the aged king; the narrow-minded little world within the Palace who treated those outside as though of different flesh and blood to themselves.
Whether at a marriage, at a funeral, at the opera, at a review, or at a charity fête– everywhere where her Court duties called her – she met the same people, she heard the same interminable chatter and the same shameful scandals, until, unhappy in her own domestic life, she had grown to loathe it all, and to long for that liberty of which she had dreamed when a girl at her father’s castle at Wartenstein, or at the great old Residenz-Schloss, or palace, at Pressburg.
Yet what liberty could she, heiress to a throne, obtain; what, indeed, within her husband’s Court, a circle who dined at five o’clock and were iron-bound by etiquette?
The State dinner at the Imperial palace that night differed but little from any other State dinner – long, dull, and extremely uninteresting. Given in honour of a Swedish Prince who was at the moment the guest of the Emperor, there were present the usual circle of Imperial Archdukes and Archduchesses, who after dinner were joined in the great reception-room by the Ministers of State, the British, French, and Italian Ambassadors, the Swedish Minister and the whole staff of the Swedish Embassy in the Schwindgasse. Every one was in uniform and wore his orders, the Emperor himself standing at the end of the room, chatting with his young guest in French.
The Crown Princess Claire, a striking figure in turquoise chiffon, was standing near, discussing Leoncavallo’s new opera with her cousin, the Princess Marie of Bourbon, who had arrived only a few days before from Madrid. Suddenly her eye caught the figure she had all the evening been in Search of.
Count de Lindenau, Privy Councillor, Chamberlain, Minister of the Imperial Household, and Minister for Foreign Affairs of the Austrian Empire – a short, rather stout, bald-headed man, with heavy white moustache, with the crimson ribbon of the Order of Saint Stephen of Hungary across his shirt-front and the Grand Cross in brilliants upon his coat – stopped to bow low before the Crown Princess, who in an instant seized the opportunity to leave her cousin and speak with him.
“It is really quite a long time since we met, Count,” she exclaimed pleasantly. “I met the Countess at Cannes in January, and was delighted to see her so much better. Is she quite well again?”
“I thank your Imperial Highness,” responded the Minister. “The Countess has completely recovered. At present she is at Como. And you? Here for a long stay in Vienna, I hope. We always regret that you have left us, you know,” he added, smiling, for she had, ever since a girl, been friendly with him, and had often visited his wife at their castle at Mauthhausen.
“No; I regret that I must return to Treysa in a few days,” she said as she moved along and he strolled at her side down the great gilded room where the little groups were standing gossiping. Then, when his Excellency had asked after the health of the Crown Prince and of the little Princess Ignatia, she drew him aside to a spot where they could not be overheard, and halting, said in a lower tone, —
“I have wished to meet you, Count, because I want you to do me a favour.”
“Your Imperial Highness knows quite well that if I can serve you in any way I am always only too delighted.” And he bowed.
More than once she had asked favour of Lindenau, the stern Foreign Minister and favourite of the Emperor, and he had always acted as she wished. She had known him ever since her birth. He had, indeed, been present at her baptism.
“Well, it is this,” she said. “I want to give my recommendation to you on behalf of Count Leitolf, who is at present chief of the King’s private cabinet at Treysa, and who is strongly desirous of returning to the Austrian diplomatic service, and is anxious for a post abroad.” Mention of Leitolf’s name caused the wily old Minister to glance at her quickly. The rumour had reached his ears, and in an instant he recognised the situation – the Crown Princess wished to rid herself of him. But the old fellow was diplomatic, and said, as though compelled to recall the name, —
“Leitolf? Let me see. That is Count Carl, whom I sent to London a few years ago? He resigned his post to take service under your father-in-law the King. Ah yes, I quite recollect. And he now wishes to be appointed abroad again, eh? And you wish to recommend him?”
“Exactly, Count,” she answered. “I think that Leitolf is tired of our Court; he finds it too dull. He would prefer Rome, he tells me.”
“Your Imperial Highness is well aware that any recommendation of yours always has the most earnest attention,” said the Minister, with a polite bow. His quick grey eyes were watching the beautiful woman sharply. He wondered what had occurred between her and Count Carl.
“Then you will send him to Rome?” she asked, unable to conceal her eagerness.
“If he will present himself at the Ministry, he will be at once appointed to the Embassy to the Quirinal,” responded his Excellency quietly.
“But he will not present himself, I am afraid.”
“Oh, why not?” inquired the great Austrian diplomatist, regarding her in surprise.
“Because – ” and she hesitated, as a slight flush crossed her features – “because he is rather ashamed to ask for a second appointment, having resigned from London.”
The old Minister smiled dubiously.
“Ah!” he exclaimed confidentially, “I quite understand. Your Imperial Highness wishes to get rid of him from your Court, eh?”
The Princess started, twisting her diamond bracelet nervously round her wrist.
“Why do you think that, Count?” she asked quickly, surprised that he should have thus divined her motive.
“Well, your Imperial Highness is rather unduly interested in the man – if you will permit me to say so,” was his answer. “Besides, if I may speak frankly, as I know I may, I have regarded his presence in your Court as distinctly dangerous – for you. There are, you know, evil tongues ever ready to invent scandal, even against a Crown Princess.”
“I know,” she said, in a low, changed voice. “But let us walk; otherwise they will all wonder why I am talking with you so long,” and the two moved slowly along side by side. “I know,” she went on – “I know that I have enemies; and, to confess the truth, I wish, in order to show them that they lie, to send him from me.”
“Then he shall go. To-morrow I will send him orders to rejoin the service, and to proceed to Rome immediately. And,” he added in a kindly voice, “I can only congratulate your Imperial Highness upon your forethought. Leitolf is entirely without discretion. Only this evening I was actually told that he had followed you to Vienna, and – ”
But he stopped abruptly, without concluding his sentence. “And what else?” she asked, turning pale. Even the Minister knew; therefore Leitolf had evidently allowed himself to be seen.
“Shall I tell you, Princess?”
“Certainly; you need not keep anything from me.”
“I was also told that he is staying at the Hotel Imperial, and that you had called upon him this afternoon.” She started, and looked him straight in the face.
“Who told you that?” she demanded.
“I learned it from the report of the secret agents of the Ministry.”
“Then I am spied upon here!” she exclaimed, pale with anger. “Even in my own home watch is kept upon me.”
“Not upon your Imperial Highness,” was the great Minister’s calm reply, “but upon the man we have recently been discussing. It was, I venture to think, rather indiscreet of you to go to the hotel; although, of course, the knowledge of your visit is confidential, and goes no further than myself. It is a secret of the Ministry.”
“Indiscreet!” she echoed with a sigh. “In this polluted atmosphere, to breathe freely is to be indiscreet. Because I am an Archduchess I am fettered as a prisoner, and watched like a criminal under surveillance. My enemies, jealous of my position and power, have invented scandalous stories that have aroused suspicion, and for that reason you all believe ill of me.”
“Pardon me, Princess,” said the crafty old man, bowing, “I, for one, do not. Your anxiety to rid yourself of the fellow is proof to me that the scandal is a pure invention, and I am only too pleased to render you this service. Your real enemies are those around your husband, who have hinted and lied regarding you in order to estrange you from Court.”
“Then you are really my friend, Count?” she asked anxiously. “You do not believe what they say regarding me?”
“I do not, Princess,” he replied frankly; “and I trust you will still regard me, as I hope I have ever been, your Imperial Highness’s friend. I know full well how Leitolf craved your favour for recommendation to your King; and you, with a woman’s blindness to the grave eventualities of the future, secured him the appointment. Of late you have, I suppose, realised the fatal mistake?”
“Yes,” she said in a low voice; “I have now foreseen my own peril. I have been very foolish; but I have halted, and Leitolf must go.”
“Very wise – very wise indeed! Your Imperial Highness cannot afford to run any further risk. In a few months, or a couple of years at most, the poor King’s disease must prove fatal, and you will find yourself Queen of a brilliant kingdom. Once Queen, your position will be assured, and you will make short work of all those who have conspired to secure your downfall. You will, perhaps, require assistance. If so, rely upon me to render you in secret whatever help lies in my power. With you, a Hapsbourg, as Queen, the influence of Austria must be paramount, remember. Therefore I beg of your Imperial Highness to exercise the greatest discretion not to imperil yourself. The Crown Prince must be allowed no loophole through which he can openly quarrel with you. Remain patient and forbearing until you are Queen.”
They were in a corner of the great hall, standing behind one of the high marble columns and unobserved.
“I am always patient, Count,” was her rather sad response, her chest heaving beneath her chiffon. “As you well know, my marriage has not been a happy one; but I strive to do my duty to both the Court and the people. I make no denial to you. You doubtless know the truth – that when a girl I loved Count Leitolf, and that it was an act prompted by foolish sentimentalism to have connived at his appointment at my husband’s own Court. Betrayed, perhaps, by my own actions, my enemies have seized upon my embarrassing situation to lie about me. Ah,” she added bitterly, “how little they know of my own dire unhappiness!”
“No, no,” urged the Minister, seemingly full of sympathy for her, knowing the truth as he did. “Bear up; put a brave countenance always towards the world. When Leitolf has gone your Imperial Highness will have less embarrassment, and people cannot then place any misconstructions upon your actions. You will not have the foolish young man following you wherever you go, as he now does. At noon to-morrow I will sign the decree for his immediate appointment to Rome, and he will receive but little leave of absence, I can assure you. He will be as much a prisoner in the Palazzo Chigi as is his Holiness in the Vatican,” he added.
“Thank you,” she answered simply, glancing gratefully into his grey, deeply-lined face; and as he bowed to her she left him and swept up the room to where the Emperor was engaged in conversation with Lord Powerstock, the British Ambassador.
The old Minister’s face had changed the instant he left her. The mask of the courtier had fallen from the wily old countenance, and glancing after her, he muttered some words that were inaudible.
If she had but seen the evil smile that played about the old diplomatist’s lips, she would have detected that his intention was to play her false, and she might then have saved herself.
But, alas! in her ignorance she went on light-heartedly, her long train sweeping behind her, believing in De Lindenau’s well-feigned sympathy, and congratulating herself that the all-powerful personage behind the Emperor was still her friend.
The Minister saw that she was satisfied; then turning on his heel, he gave vent to a short, hard laugh of triumph.
