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"But you forget," Jacqueline cried testily, "you forget the imagination of a poet."
"And he will imagine----"
"Yes, because I shall tell him."
"Sacre----"
"And possibly he would brace his feelings to a second aesthetic horror as a rebuke for the first. In a word, my colonel, there will be one more body to follow--underground. Now is this quite clear, or--do you require my promise on it?"
The savage old brow manifested the desire to make her a victim as well, but in this extra blood-thirst she knew that Driscoll was safe. "I understand, Mademoiselle la Marquise," he said, laying on heavily the suave gallantry of a Frenchman. "Yes, I understand. Prince Max values Your Ladys.h.i.+p's good taste so highly---- Pardi, I believe he would certainly shoot me if you told him to."
"Exactly," Jacqueline coldly a.s.sented.
"And Monsieur l'Americain may congratulate himself on the influence of mademoiselle, the arbiter elegantiarum--with His Majesty."
"As Monsieur le Tigre may congratulate himself that the American does not understand this insult, sir."
Behind her rose a dry hysterical cackle of renewed hope. "The Little Black Crow!" she exclaimed. "See, my colonel, he is not worth an execution all to himself, so do we all go back to contemplate Prince Max's loving ovation."
"The Emperor arrives!" she cried gayly, returning to the porch. With the others she was once more behind the remote column, an end of the rebosa hanging over her arm ready to be flung across her face. "But what--Helas, I haven't my Ritual with me."--The Ritual cla.s.sified every movement, every breath of the Court, as rigidly and with as little consciousness of humor as Linnaeus did his flowers.--"It can't be a Minor Palace Luncheon of the Third Cla.s.s," she mused, "and it isn't Grand Court Mourning of the First Degree. Ha, I have it, He--that 'H' is a capital, please, not as a sacrilege, but to be Ritualistic--He is out on a voyage of the Minor Cla.s.s, Small Service of Honor, Lesser Cortege. Now then, all's comfortable; no room for plebeian misconceptions."
On they came, each rigidly after his kind, a Noah's procession of Dignitaries with the August Sovereign first of all. To bring on the majestic climax so early was illogical, of course, but dust having happened to be created before precedence, the Cortege was changed the other way round for a voyage, so that the First Category people breathed what the August Sovereign kicked up and kicked up some additional for the Second Category, and the Second did the same for the Third, and so on down to the Ninth, or "And all others," who breathed the best they could and paid the bill.
Nothing preceded the royal coach except the royal escort, and that by exactly two hundred paces, in which interval a canonical obligation was laid on the dust to settle. It was a particularly gallant royal escort.
The Empress's Own, or the Dragoons, or Lancers, or Guardsmen, or Hussars, or whatever they were, were picked Mexicans; and they were frankly proud of their rich crimson tunics; also, perhaps, of their heavily fringed standard worked by Carlota herself. A cavalry detachment in fur caps with a feather completed the body guard. Mexico is a hot country, but that was no reason why an Austrian regiment should sacrifice its furry ident.i.ty.
"Belgians too!" exclaimed Jacqueline. "And the Mexican emigres! They came back when we made it safe for them. But where, oh where, are the French?"
"Everywhere," growled the Tiger, "in mountains and swamps, dying everywhere, fighting for this Austrian archduke. But he doesn't like to be seen with them."
Behind eight white mules of Spain, four abreast, rolled the coach of the Emperor, solitary and marked as majesty itself. There were postilions and outriders and footmen arrayed in the Imperial livery with the Imperial crown. And on the coach door flashed Maximilian's escutcheon, his archducal arms grafted on the torso of his new imperial estate.
There were the winged griffins with absurd scrolls for tails. They had voracious claws, had these droll beasts of prey, and they clutched at an oval frame ruthlessly, as though to shatter it and get at a certain bird within. Poor bird, his shelter looked very fragile, and he about to be smothered under an enormous diadem as under an extinguisher. He was none other than the Mexican eagle perched on his own native cactus, and he desired only peace and quiet while he throttled the snake of ignorance in his talons, which snake had been his worry ever since the Aztec hordes from the north had first caged him in. Beneath the Imperial arms was the motto, "Equidad en la Justicia," but it seemed an idle promise.
In the huge traveling coach, with a greyhound at his feet, sat one lone man. He had a soft skin, rosy like a baby's, and blue eyes, and what some called a beautiful golden beard. The huzzas swelled and surged from all sides, and he smiled on the people. But he gazed beyond them, and into the blue eyes came the light of exaltation such as is inspired by music that starts a heartstring in vague trembling.
The Cortege followed in carriages one hundred paces apart. The first held the First Grand Dignitary, the only Dignitary of Third Category rank, and hence the only one who could stand near the throne after Highnesses, Grand Collars, and Amba.s.sadors. He was the Grand Marshal of the Court and Minister of the Imperial Household. His privileges consisted of seeing "His Majesty when called for," and of "communicating with Him in writing." But he could not see Him when not called for. In reality the Grand Marshal was a quiet old Mexican gentleman who seemed ill at ease. He was General Almonte, one of those conservatives who had sought their country's tranquillity in foreign intervention. But Maximilian had bespangled him into a Dignidad, and thus lost to himself an able politician's usefulness. The real man of affairs was an obscure Belgian who openly and insolently despised everything Mexican. He also sang chansonettes. He was the sour-browed Monsieur eloin already mentioned.
Dignidades enough to make up the Lesser Cortege were not lacking. Riding alone was the Chief of the Military Household, who could return no salutes when near His Majesty except from First and Second Category personages. Under the circ.u.mstances, recognition of his own father would have been rank heresy. Then there was the Grand Physician, the Grand Chaplain, and Honorary Physicians and Chaplains, who could wear Grand Uniforms and a Cordon and eat at the Grand Marshal's table; and there were Chamberlains and Secretaries of Ceremony and Aides. Many surrept.i.tiously peeped into a monster volume as they rode. It was not a ma.s.s book nor a materia medica. It was the Ritual.
The Sixth Grand Dignitary of Cabellerizo Mayor helped His Majesty to descend from His coach. He did it mid vociferous cheering and waving of boughs and agitation of handkerchiefs on bamboo poles. Aides and Deputy Dignitaries worked industriously driving back the simple Inditos.
"'The General Aide de Camp,'" Jacqueline quoted reverently, "'will keep the people from the Imperial coach, but without maiming them.'"
CHAPTER XVI
HE OF THE DEBONAIR SCEPTRE
"And let us make a name."--_Genesis._
The flame of lofty resolve burned with a high, present heat in Maximilian's dreamy eyes. But the thing was not statesmans.h.i.+p. The danger dial pointed to some latest darling phantasy.
When the young prince--he was but thirty-three--descended from his carriage, he signed that the Cortege should not form as yet. And instead of mounting the colonnade steps, he turned and mingled with his humble subjects. A pleased murmur arose among the Indians. "Que simpatico!"
they breathed in little gasps of admiring awe.
The unusually tall and very fair young man, in the simplicity of black, with only the grand cross of St. Stephen about his neck, moved about among the ragged peons. Now and again he spoke to one and another, questioning earnestly. Anxious orderlies were quick to brush aside the touch of an elbow, but to those outside the circle, watching what he would do, he seemed alone with his people. And in thought, he really was. There was a great pity upon his face, and it was the more poignant because these timorous children could not comprehend the wretchedness which so appealed to him.
"And thou?" he demanded of an aged man whose tatters hung heavy in filth.
A look of poor simple craft came into the Indian's face. "I, senor?
Maria purisima, I am cursed of heaven. But the rich senor wishes to know--see!" and ere Monsieur eloin could prevent, he bared a limb of rotting flesh. "If it were not for my leg, Your Mercy----"
"_Animal_," snarled eloin in his ear, "can't you say 'Your Majesty'?"
"Your--Majesty, or if I had children, I could make my debt--oh, grande, grande, twenty reales, maybe. And then, and then I should have a red and purple sc.r.a.pe, with a green eagle, like my nephew Felipe has.--He owes,"
the man added in a kind of pride, "thirty reales, my nephew Felipe does."
But his wiles failed. The rich senor turned toward the colonnade, his sailor's easy swing giving way to a tread of determination. Also, the pure flame burned consumingly.
From the top of the steps, between files of dismounted Dragoons, Maximilian looked over the people, beyond, in some far away gaze of the spirit.
Jacqueline hid the golden gleam of her hair under the rebosa.
"Silencium!" she whispered, laying a finger across her lips. "For now we'll have the mountains to frisk, and the little hills to skip. In all the Orient there blooms no flower of eloquence like unto his."
The monarch's inspired look promised as much. "Mexicans," he began. The peons huddled closer, their responsive natures quickened. His sonorous voice was electrical, despite an accent, despite the German over-gush of stammering when words could not keep pace with the vast idea. But the one word of address gave the peons a dignity they had never suspected.
"Mexicans: you have desired me. Acceding to the spontaneous expression of your wishes, I have come to your n.o.ble country--our dear patria--to watch over and direct your destinies. And with me came one who feels for you all the tenderness of a mother, who is your Empress and my August Spouse."
"But not," murmured the sententious lady of the rebosa, "august enough to appear before Him unless He sends for Her."
Proceeding, the speaker solemnly told them of his divine right as a Hapsburg, as one of the Caesars, and of his anointment by the Vicar of G.o.d at Rome, so that to G.o.d alone was he responsible. As a Mexican he gloried with them in their liberties, in the True Liberty he brought, for had not the Holy Father said to him, "Great are the rights of a people, but greater and more sacred are the rights of the Church?" Hence he burned with Heaven-given fire to lift them, his subjects, into the vanguard of Nineteenth Century Progress.
Here Maximilian paused mid cheers, and thinking on his next words, his delicate hand of a gentleman clenched.
"Mexicans," he began again, now in the vibrant tone of an overpowering emotion. "I pray to fulfil the mission for which G.o.d has placed me here.
There are six millions of you, a sober and industrious race. Cortez found you so, and you astounded him with your civilization. But the conditions that followed have enslaved you. Enslaved, I repeat, for you are bound by debt. Your hacendado master contrives that you cannot pay even his usurious interest. The food you eat, you must buy from him, at his prices, of the quality he prescribes. And if your debt be not sufficient, that is, if there seems a chance of your paying it off, then you must increase it to obtain your daily bread. Your very children are slaves at birth, since with their first birth they inherit your chains.
And if you or your children run away, you or they may be brought back as runaway slaves. It is thus that I find you, Mexicans. And I find you awaiting a liberator, waiting vainly through the centuries. But now, at last, the reward of your suffering and your faith has come. In a word, which shall be formally recorded in the Journal Official, We this day decree----"
"I knew it," exclaimed Jacqueline, "he always coins his inspirations."
"----We this day decree your debts extinguished, and each and every peon in all our beautiful country--a free man!"
"Yet with not," said Jacqueline, "a foot of land to be free on. But you know, messieurs, that Utopia is an asylum for the blind."
"It's a spider on his ceiling," muttered Colonel Dupin, touching his own head significantly.