The King's Mirror Part 33

The Bartensteins' present visit was to be as private as possible. The arrangement was that Elsa and I should be left to roam about the woods together, to become well known to one another, and after about three weeks to fall in love. The Duke was not to be of the party on this occasion (wise Duke!) and, when I had made my proposal, mother and daughter would return home to receive the father's blessing and to wait while the business was settled. When all was finished, I should receive my bride in state at Forstadt, and the wedding would be solemnized. In reply to my questions Bederhof admitted that he could not at present fix the final event within a fortnight or so; he did not, however, consider this trifling uncertainty material.

"No more do I, my dear Baron," said I.

"Here," said he, "is the picture of your Majesty which Princess Heinrich has just sent to Bartenstein."

I looked at the lanky figure, the long face, and the pained smile which I had presented to the camera.

"Good gracious!" I murmured softly.

"I beg your pardon, sire?"

"It is very like me."

"An admirable picture."

What in the world was Elsa feeling about it? Thanks to this picture, I was roused from the mood of pure self-regard and allowed my mind to ask how the world was looking to Elsa. I did not find encouragement in the only answer that I could honestly give to my question.

Just at this time I received a letter from Varvilliers containing intelligence which was not only interesting in itself, but seemed to possess a peculiar appositeness. He had heard from Coralie Mansoni, and she announced to him her marriage with a prominent operatic impresario.

"You have perhaps seen the fellow," Varvilliers wrote. "He has small black eyes and large black whiskers; his stomach is very big, but, for shame or for what reason I know not, he hides it behind a bigger gold locket. Coralie detests him, but it has been her ambition to sing in grand opera. 'It is my career, _mon cher_,' she writes. Behold, sentiment is sacrificed, and we shall hear her in Wagner! She thinks that she performs a duty, and she is almost sure that it need not be very onerous. She is a sensible woman, our dear Coralie. For the rest I have no news save that Wetter is said to have broken the bank at baccarat, and may be expected shortly to return home and resume his task of improving the condition and morals of the people. I hear reports of your Majesty that occasion me concern. But courage! Coralie has led the way!"

"Come," said I to myself aloud, "if Coralie, although she detests him, yet for her career's sake marries him, it little becomes me to make wry faces. Haven't I also, in my small way, a career?"

But Coralie hoped that her duty would not be very onerous. I had nothing to do with that. The difference there was in temperament, not circ.u.mstances.

I have kept the d.u.c.h.ess and Elsa an intolerably long while on their journey to Artenberg. In fact they came quickly and directly; we were advised of their start, and two days of uncomfortable excitement brought us to the hour of their arrival. For once in her life Princess Heinrich betrayed signs of disturbance; to my wonder I detected an undisguised look of appeal in her eyes as she watched me at my luncheon which I took with her on the fateful day. I understood that she was imploring me to treat the occasion properly, and that its importance had driven her from her wonted reserve. I endeavoured to rea.s.sure her by a light and cheerful demeanour, but my effort was not successful enough to prevent her from saying a few words to me after the meal. I a.s.sured her that Elsa should receive from me the most delicate respect.

"I'm not afraid of your being too precipitate," she said. "It's not that."

"No, I shall not be too precipitate," I agreed.

"But remember that--that she's quite a girl, and"--my mother broke off, looked at me for a moment, and then looked away--"she'll like you if you make her think you like her," she went on in a moment.

I seemed suddenly to see the true woman and to hear the true opinion.

The crisis then was great; my mother had dropped the veil and thrown aside her finished art.

"I hope to like her very much," said I.

Princess Heinrich was a resolute woman; the path on which she set her foot she trod to the end.

"I know what you've persuaded yourself you feel about it," she said bluntly and rather scornfully. "Well, don't let her see that."

"She would refuse me?"

"No. She'd marry you and hate you for it. Above all, don't laugh at her."

I sat silently looking at Princess Heinrich.

"You're so strange," she said. "I don't know what's made you so. Have you no feelings?"

"Do you think that?" I asked, smiling.

"Yes, I do," she answered defiantly. "You were the same even as a boy.

It was no use appealing to your affections."

I had outgrown my taste for wrangles. But I certainly did not recollect that either Krak or my mother had been in the habit of appealing to my affections; Krak's appeals, at least, had been addressed elsewhere. Yet my mother spoke in absolute sincerity.

"It's only just at first that it matters," she went on in a calmer tone.

"Afterward she won't mind. You'll learn not to expect too much from one another."

"I a.s.sure you that lesson is already laid to my heart," said I, rising.

My mother ended the interview and resumed her mask. She called Victoria to her and sent her to make a personal inspection of the quarters prepared for our guests. I sat waiting on the terrace, while William Adolphus wandered about in a state of conscious and wretched superfluousness. I believe that Victoria had forbidden him to smoke.

They came; there ensued some moments of embracing. Good Cousin Elizabeth was squarer and stouter than six years ago. Her cheeks had not lost their ruddy hue. She was a favourite of mine, and I was glad to find that her manner had not lost its heartiness as she kissed me affectionately on both cheeks. At the same time there was a difference.

Cousin Elizabeth was a little flurried and a little apologetic. When she turned to Elsa I saw her eye run in a rapid anxious glance over her daughter's raiment. Then she led her forward.

"She's changed since you saw her last, isn't she?" she asked in a mixture of pride and uneasiness. "But you've seen photographs, of course," she added immediately.

I bent low and kissed my cousin's hand. She was very visibly embarra.s.sed, and her cheeks turned red. She glanced at her mother as though asking what she ought to do. In the end she shook hands and glanced again, apparently in a sudden conviction that she had done the wrong thing. There can be very little doubt that we ought to have kissed one another on the cheek. Victoria came up, and I turned away to give my arm to Cousin Elizabeth.

"She's so young," whispered Cousin Elizabeth, hugging my arm.

"She's a very pretty girl," said I, responsively pressing Cousin Elizabeth's fingers.

Cousin Elizabeth smiled, and I felt her pat my arm ever so gently. I could not help smiling, in spite of my mother's warning. I heard Victoria chattering merrily to Elsa. A gift of inconsequent chatter is by no means without its place in the world, although we may prefer that others should supply the commodity. I heard Elsa's bright sweet laugh in answer. She was much more comfortable with Victoria. A minute later the arrival of Victoria's little girl made her absolutely happy.

I had been instructed to treat the d.u.c.h.ess with the most distinguished courtesy and the highest tributes of respect. My mother and I put her between us and escorted her to her rooms. Elsa, it was considered, would be more at her ease without such pomp. My mother was magnificent. On such occasions she shone. Nevertheless she rather alarmed honest Cousin Elizabeth. A perfect manner alarms many people; it seems so often to exhibit an unholy remoteness from the natural. Cousin Elizabeth was, I believe, rather afraid of being left alone with my mother. For her sake I rejoiced to meet her servants hurrying up to her a.s.sistance. I returned to the garden.

Elsa had not gone in; she sat on a seat with Victoria's baby in her arms. Victoria was standing by, telling her how she ought and ought not to hold the little creature. William Adolphus also had edged near and stood hands in pockets, with a broad smile on his excellent countenance.

I paused and watched. He drew quite near to Victoria; she turned her head, spoke to him, smiled and laughed merrily. Elsa tossed and tickled the baby; both Victoria and William Adolphus looked pleased and proud.

It is easy to be too hard on life; one should make a habit of reflecting occasionally out of what very unpromising materials happiness can be manufactured. These four beings were at this moment, each and all of them, incontestably happy. Ah, well, I must go and disturb them!

I walked up to the group. On the sight of me Victoria suppressed her kindliness toward her husband; she did not wish me to make the mistake of supposing that she was content. William Adolphus looked supremely ashamed and uncomfortable. The child, being suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed by her mother, puckered lips and brows and threatened tears. Elsa sprang up with heightened colour and stood in an att.i.tude of uneasiness. Why, yes, I had disturbed their happiness very effectually.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you," I pleaded.

"Nonsense; we weren't doing anything," said Victoria. "I'll show you your rooms, Elsa, shall I?"

Elsa, I believe, would have elected to be shown something much more alarming than a bedroom in order to escape from my presence. She accepted Victoria's offer with obvious thankfulness. The two went off with the baby. William Adolphus, still rather embarra.s.sed, took out a cigar. We sat down side by side and both began to smoke. There was a silence for several moments.

"She's a pretty girl," observed my brother-in-law at last.

"Very," I agreed.

"Seems a bit shy, though," he suggested, with a sidelong glance at me.

"She seemed to be getting on very well with you and the baby."

"Oh, yes, she was all right then," said William Adolphus.