By Wit of Woman - Arthur W. Marchmont (e textbook reader .TXT) 📗

he was never spoken to in such a way before by man or woman—or child; for you are really little more than a child."

"What do you think he meant to do in coming here?" I asked.

"That was what made me so thoughtful during dinner."

"You are keeping something from me."

"I?"

"Well, you mean that he is?"

"I know him. It would be very remarkable if he were not."

"But you agree that he will do as he promised?"

"'I fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts,'" he quoted again. "At least, I should if I were you. His influence is great; and in a week or so I should think you will be Countess Melnik. I don't think anything you can ask him for will be refused. You will be as much honoured as your father was the reverse."

"The scent is too cold. I do not understand," I said, after a pause.

"You are not meant to—nor will it affect you. You have been threatening a good many plans, little lady. I like to see you at fault. It is a rare pleasure."

"It cannot be about Colonel Katona's daughter. If he knows of that he knows what I told Count Gustav. He will not deem me likely to desert her. Yes, I am at fault."

"You have not told me yet what passed at that house where I found you to-day."

I told him everything, except as to what had passed between Karl and myself.

"It is all grave enough," he said. "A secret is very much like dynamite—unless there is great care, the explosion may hurt the holder. I have told you often enough how great a favourite Count Gustav is; not with his father only, but with us all."

"'Us'?" I repeated.

"I am one of the Patriots. Count Karl lacks both force in himself and support outside."

"He is not understood."

His Excellency's eyes brightened. "Is that why you have not told me what you and he may have said to one another?"

I felt the colour steal up into my cheeks. "It was not necessary."

"No, Christabel, that is just the word—not necessary." He glanced at his watch. "Dear me, it is quite late. I must send you to bed."

"You have not shown me the scent," I cried, with a little shrug of irritation; as I began to pack away the chessmen.

He regarded me with the old amused twinkle in his eyes, and then with a glance at the chess-board, a thought struck him and he crossed to me. "You are fond of chess problems, by the way. I'll set you one."

He swept all the black pieces off the board except the king and one pawn, and then left the white king and five white pawns, two of the latter so placed that but one move for each was necessary for them to become queens.

"Could you win that game if you were white?" he asked.

"It is but childish; of course these pawns become queens."

"Exactly. In chess any pawn that can get far enough can be a queen—but not in life, you know. Good-night, Christabel."

I scarcely heard his good-night, but sat staring down at the little pieces where he had placed them.

"You think that any such thing was in his thoughts?"

"What I think is—that orange-blossoms have a very charming scent, Christabel, and Count Gustav is the hope of the Patriots. Again, good-night, child. You have won your victory—by your own wits mainly, although other things have been fighting for you. Go to bed and dream of it, and remember—the first obligation of a conqueror is magnanimity. No—no more to-night, child, except—God bless you and give you happiness."

I lay a long time thinking over the events of that full day, and wrestling with the problem which his Excellency's last words had set me: "The first obligation of a conqueror is magnanimity."

So that was the secret. I had won in the struggle. Not only was my father's fame to be righted, but I was to be honoured, not from any recognition of justice, but in order that I might be a fit wife for a duke's son.

Then I was to be "magnanimous," too; which meant that I was to consent to acquiesce in the family arrangement by which Karl was to be set aside in favour of Gustav; and to cease all my efforts against him.

I had beaten them in all other respects; and now they had seized upon Karl's old feelings for me, and had somehow divined mine for him; and the two were made the subject-matter of this new bribery-bargain.

The shame of it made my cheeks burn and flush in the darkness; and I winced and cowered at the humiliation as the bitter thoughts crowded thick and fast upon me. I recalled what had passed between the Duke and me, and reading it all now by the light of this later knowledge, my pride was stabbed and pierced by a hundred poisoned darts that rankled and festered with cruel pain.

He had come to view me as a possible wife for the son whom he designed to disinherit! My love for Karl was to be made a stake in the game of injustice he would play! I was to be tossed to Karl as a sort of compensation for his wrongs; and I was to be "honoured" that I might be duly rendered fit for the position! The show of reparation to my father was a mere sham and pretence to tinsel another wrong! My duty to the dead, the solemn charge laid upon me, was to be a lever to force me to consent to it! And this was my victory!

Is it to be wondered at that the ashes gritted my teeth; that in my hot indignation, I spurned the whole transaction as base and ignoble, and that I vowed rather to forego my supreme purpose than gain it at such a price. My father's honour was dear to me; but he would never have me win it for him at the price of my own.

The whole bargain was dishonourable alike to the dead and to me; and the mere proposal should harden my heart and stiffen my resolve to go through with my task in my own way.

I grew less passionate when I had settled this resolve firmly; and was able to reflect upon the probable result of the Duke's intention to my plans. They were now in danger of being badly broken up. If he kept his word and sent Count Gustav to me with what he had termed the written confirmation of his promise, it was clear that the scene I had planned to take place at my house would be prevented.

The Count could not be in both places at once; but would he come to me, if James Perry played his part well? I had to risk everything on my judgment of his action. Long and anxiously I weighed that problem; and at length decided he would not come to me, if once he was persuaded that he could get hold of Gareth in despite of me.

He knew that she was the key to everything for me. If he could whisk her away from my care, my power over him was gone. I might accuse him to Colonel Katona as the man who had wronged her; but if she was bestowed safely in his charge, he could laugh at the accusation, and could challenge me safely to produce any proofs of it.

Moreover, I had so planned that he would feel safe in testing the truth of the story which James Perry would tell him; and would see that if he found it false, he could still come to the meeting, scarcely an hour behind his time. For such a delay, a hundred excuses could be pleaded; and he was not the man to be at fault for some plausible one.

He would test it, I felt confident. He had everything to gain by doing so, and nothing to lose. At least so he would reason. Success would mean all in all; failure no more than the need to invent an excuse.

I determined to go on, therefore; and fell asleep at last in complete assurance that on the morrow matters would go as I had planned before the Duke had seen me.

In the morning General von Erlanger greeted me with even more than his usual kindliness.

"You have not slept well, Christabel," he said. I suppose my face showed this.

"I had to think."

"What are you going to do? You know all that I meant in what I said at parting last night?"

"I am going to wait for the meeting at noon."

"And then?"

"If no one comes I shall go away."

"There is of course something behind that. But Count Gustav will come. His father will see to that."

"Are you against me, too, in this development?"

"I should never be against you. But I wish you to be on our side."

"If I can no longer tell you all that is in my thoughts, do not blame me. Let us wait for the meeting. I am afraid, if I were to speak, some of my chagrin might show itself."

He made a gesture of disappointment. "I have lived too long in the world, Christabel, to look for either schemes or counsels of perfection. Life must always be a compromise. I will not counsel you now; I will only hope."

"That is at least left to us all—even to me in this."

He gave me a sharp look, threw up his head slightly, and said: "Remember, Count Gustav is necessary to the country."

"It is an unfortunate country, then," I retorted, rather tartly; and we said no more.

Soon after breakfast James Perry came. He told me that he had written the letter; and I gave him his final lessons, and said that his father, who was waiting close at hand—was to take a letter which I had written to Colonel Katona, and then to be at the door with the carriage for me at twelve o'clock to the instant.

In the letter to Colonel Katona I merely gave him my address, and said I would be there within half an hour of midday to meet him and Count Karl.

When I had arranged those details, I had nothing to do except wait for the time of the meeting with such patience as I could command.

I did not know that two hours could possibly contain so many weary dragging minutes as those. I resorted to every device I could think of to use up the time. I walked up and down the room counting my steps. I tried to read; only to fling the book away from me. I repeated a quantity of poetry, from Shakespeare to Walt Whitman. I got the chess board out and tried problems; only at last to give it all up and just think and think and think.

At eleven o'clock I went to my bedroom and put on my hat in readiness, although I was not to leave until an hour later. Then to find something for my hands to do, I unpacked my trunk and tumbled all my clothes in a heap; and began refolding and repacking them with deliberate care.

I was in the midst of this most uninteresting task when a servant brought a message that General von Erlanger would like to see me.

I bundled everything back into the trunk anyhow and anywhere, locked it and went down. It was half-past eleven by the great hall clock as I crossed to the library. James Perry was just about making his entrance as traitor.

His Excellency was fingering a letter as I went in.

"I am anxious to have a last talk with you before Count Gustav comes, Christabel. There are some things I wish you to see quite plainly."

"We have only half an hour," said I.

"No, we may have longer. I have a line from the Count to say that an unexpected but very pressing engagement may prevent his being quite punctual; and he begs me to explain this to you."

"Oh, General, what perfectly glorious marguerites!" I exclaimed,