Rupert of Hentzau: From The Memoirs of Fritz Von Tarlenheim<br />Sequel to The Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope (the reading list TXT) 📗

“I’ve known her send a lover’s to sleep,” laughed young Bernenstein, rising from his table, stretching himself, and lighting a cigar.

“Ay, she’s apt to take a man out of what he is,” pursued old Sapt. “Set a quiet man near her, and he dreams of battle; an ambitious fellow, after ten minutes of her, will ask nothing better than to muse all his life away. I don’t trust her, Fritz; I wish the night were dark.”

“What will she do to Rudolf Rassendyll?” I asked, falling in with the old fellow’s whimsical mood.

“He will see the queen’s face in hers,” cried Bernenstein.

“He may see God’s,” said Sapt; and he shook himself as though an unwelcome thought had found its way to his mind and lips.

A pause fell on us, born of the colonel’s last remark. We looked one another in the face. At last Sapt brought his hand down on the table with a bang.

“I’ll not go back,” he said sullenly, almost fiercely.

“Nor I,” said Bernenstein, drawing himself up. “Nor you, Tarlenheim?”

“No, I also go on,” I answered. Then again there was a moment’s silence.

“She may make a man soft as a sponge,” reflected Sapt, starting again, “or hard as a bar of steel. I should feel safer if the night were dark. I’ve looked at her often from my tent and from bare ground, and I know her. She got me a decoration, and once she came near to making me turn tail. Have nothing to do with her, young Bernenstein.”

“I’ll keep my eyes for beauties nearer at hand,” said Bernenstein, whose volatile temper soon threw off a serious mood.

“There’s a chance for you, now Rupert of Hentzau’s gone,” said Sapt grimly.

As he spoke there was a knock at the door. When it opened James entered.

“The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim begs to be allowed to speak with the king,” said James.

“We expect his Majesty every moment. Beg the count to enter,” Sapt answered; and, when Rischenheim came in, he went on, motioning the count to a chair: “We are talking, my lord, of the influence of the moon on the careers of men.”

“What are you going to do? What have you decided?” burst out Rischenheim impatiently.

“We decide nothing,” answered Sapt.

“Then what has Mr.—what has the king decided?”

“The king decides nothing, my lord. She decides,” and the old fellow pointed again through the window towards the moon. “At this moment she makes or unmakes a king; but I can’t tell you which. What of your cousin?”

“You know that my cousin’s dead.”

“Yes, I know that. What of him, though?”

“Sir,” said Rischenheim with some dignity, “since he is dead, let him rest in peace. It is not for us to judge him.”

“He may well wish it were. For, by Heaven, I believe I should let the rogue off,” said Colonel Sapt, “and I don’t think his Judge will.”

“God forgive him, I loved him,” said Rischenheim. “Yes, and many have loved him. His servants loved him, sir.”

“Friend Bauer, for example?”

“Yes, Bauer loved him. Where is Bauer?”

“I hope he’s gone to hell with his loved master,” grunted Sapt, but he had the grace to lower his voice and shield his mouth with his hand, so that Rischenheim did not hear.

“We don’t know where he is,” I answered.

“I am come,” said Rischenheim, “to put my services in all respects at the queen’s disposal.”

“And at the king’s?” asked Sapt.

“At the king’s? But the king is dead.”

“Therefore ‘Long live the king!’” struck in young Bernenstein.

“If there should be a king—” began Sapt.

“You’ll do that?” interrupted Rischenheim in breathless agitation.

“She is deciding,” said Colonel Sapt, and again he pointed to the moon.

“But she’s a plaguey long time about it,” remarked Lieutenant von Bernenstein.

Rischenheim sat silent for a moment. His face was pale, and when he spoke his voice trembled. But his words were resolute enough.

“I gave my honor to the queen, and even in that I will serve her if she commands me.”

Bernenstein sprang forward and caught him by the hand. “That’s what I like,” said he, “and damn the moon, colonel!” His sentence was hardly out of his mouth when the door opened, and to our astonishment the queen entered. Helga was just behind her; her clasped hands and frightened eyes seemed to protest that their coming was against her will. The queen was clad in a long white robe, and her hair hung on her shoulders, being but loosely bound with a ribbon. Her air showed great agitation, and without any greeting or notice of the rest she walked quickly across the room to me.

“The dream, Fritz,” she said. “It has come again. Helga persuaded me to lie down, and I was very tired, so at last I fell asleep. Then it came. I saw him, Fritz—I saw him as plainly as I see you. They all called him king, as they did to-day; but they did not cheer. They were quiet, and looked at him with sad faces. I could not hear what they said; they spoke in hushed voices. I heard nothing more than ‘the king, the king,’ and he seemed to hear not even that. He lay still; he was lying on something, something covered with hanging stuff, I couldn’t see what it was; yes, quite still. His face was so pale, and he didn’t hear them say ‘the king.’ Fritz, Fritz, he looked as if he were dead! Where is he? Where have you let him go?”

She turned from me and her eyes flashed over the rest. “Where is he? Why aren’t you with him?” she demanded, with a sudden change of tone; “why aren’t you round him? You should be between him and danger, ready to give your lives for his. Indeed, gentlemen, you take your duty lightly.”

It might be that there was little reason in her words. There appeared to be no danger threatening him, and after all he was not our king, much as we desired to make him such. Yet we did not think of any such matter. We were abashed before her reproof and took her indignation as deserved. We hung our heads, and Sapt’s shame betrayed itself in the dogged sullenness of his answer.

“He has chosen to go walking, madam, and to go alone. He ordered us—I say, he ordered us not to come. Surely we are right to obey him?” The sarcastic inflection of his voice conveyed his opinion of the queen’s extravagance.

“Obey him? Yes.