On the Heights Part 104

At the last post-house, he left his horse and took a post-chaise.

It was early in the morning when the carriage arrived at the summer palace. They found it difficult to arouse Baum, and it was some time before he was fully awake and could recollect where he was and what he had brought with him.

Various court carriages were in waiting, and fine saddle-horses were being led from the stables. Baum scarcely heard the salutations of his comrades and the grooms. He entered the palace and ascended the staircase. He was so completely worn out that he felt as if his knees would sink under him. He entered the king's ante-chamber. The old head chamberlain hastily took the pinch of snuff which he had been holding between his fingers, and offered his hand to Baum. Baum sank into a chair, and expressed a wish to be forthwith announced to his majesty.

"I can't yet. You must wait," replied the head chamberlain.

It was only by a violent effort that Baum was enabled to keep his seat and prevent himself from falling asleep.

CHAPTER II.

The king was in his cabinet at an early hour. He avoided all enervating self-indulgence, and his powers of endurance surpa.s.sed those of any other member of the court. It was his custom to take a cold bath every morning, all the year round, and this always gave him new life and strength. He knew nothing of deshabille, and always left his bath-room fully dressed for the day.

There was to be a hunt that day, and the king was in hunting costume.

He had repaired to the cabinet, for the purpose of dispatching various matters of business that required his immediate attention.

His office was situated in the central building, in the so-called Elector's Tower. It was a large, lofty apartment, and comfortable withal. Its walls were covered with a sort of handy-volume library, military maps and various favorite specimens of plastic art, mostly antiques, of which he had procured copies while yet a prince. There was also a letter-weight, formed of b.a.l.l.s from the battle-field of Leipsic. The oaken furniture was in the Renaissance style--the large writing-table stood in the center of the room. A water-color picture, representing the queen as a bride, hung on his right.

The king entered and touched the bell which stood on the writing-table; the privy councilor presented himself.

He handed several papers to the king, who hurriedly read and signed them. The councilor presented a report in regard to the household ministry. The king, meanwhile, walked up and down the room. Suddenly he exclaimed:

"What's that?"

From the adjoining room, he heard sounds as if moving and lifting, and also sc.r.a.ping footsteps, just as if a coffin were being borne away. He touched the bell. In an instant, the door opened and the head chamberlain appeared.

"What insufferable noise is that in the gallery?"

"Your Majesty ordered the large picture to be removed."

The king remembered having given the order the day before.

Although he had, for a long while, been accustomed to seeing the picture in that place, it had yesterday suddenly become repugnant to him. The painting represented Belshazzar seated on his throne and surrounded by his creatures, while a hand issuing from the clouds is writing "Mene Tekel" on the wall. The figures were all in life size.

The king had given directions that the picture should be removed to the public gallery.

"I am awkwardly served," said the king impatiently. "It would have been time to do that while I was at the hunt."

The head chamberlain trembled when he heard these words. His hands dropped, and his head bent as if with shame. It was with difficulty that he dragged himself out through the opposite door. Instant silence ensued. Noiselessly, the painting was placed on the floor and the servants retired.

The chamberlain came around, from the other side, into the anteroom. He sat down in an arm-chair and took a pinch of snuff between his fingers, but was so absorbed in thought that he forgot to use it until the very moment when Baum entered the room.

He sat opposite Baum. All was silent. Now and then he would shake his head mournfully and look at his large arm-chair. "Yes, he'll soon be sitting here, and I'll be dismissed," thought he. When the privy councilor pa.s.sed through the ante-chamber, the old chamberlain forgot to bring him his hat. Baum did it in his stead, for Baum was fresh again. This was no time to show signs of fatigue. He felt that he held the winning card, and that now was the time to play it.

The bell in the cabinet was again heard.

"Is there any one else in the anteroom?" inquired the king of the chamberlain.

"Yes, Your Majesty; Baum is here."

"Let him enter."

Baum felt fully conscious of his importance. The king had not ordered him to report to the chamberlain, but had said, "Let him enter." He desired to confer with him in person. The confidential position which he had craved was already his.

Baum's usually grave and submissive manner seemed more impressive than ever before.

"Have you a message?" asked the king.

"No, Your Majesty."

"What have you there?"

"Your Majesty," replied Baum, placing his bundle on the chair and untying it, "I found this hat of Countess von Wildenort in the lake, and these shoes among the willows on the sh.o.r.e."

The king put forth his hand, as if to grasp these tokens, and then drew it back and pressed it to his heart. He stared at Baum and seemed lost in surprise.

"What does it all mean?" he asked, raising his hand to his head, as if to smooth down his hair which stood on end.

"Your Majesty," continued Baum, who himself trembled when he saw the king's agitated manner, "the countess wore these articles when she rode out with me and ran away."

"Ran away? and--"

Baum laid his hand on his watch, and, although he could not see the dial, he counted the seconds, nevertheless; after which he softly answered:

"The countess drowned herself in the lake last night--no, it was night before last. The boatman saw the body of a female rise on the waters and sink again; and tomorrow, which is the third day, the lake will give her up."

The king motioned him to stop--it was enough--his hand trembled; he grasped the back of a chair to support himself, and stared at the hat and shoes.

Baum dropped his eyes. He felt that the king's gaze was fixed upon him, but he still kept looking on the floor, which seemed to be rising and lifting the lackey to the level of the throne. In his mind's eye, he already beheld himself at the king's side, and as the confidant of royalty. Baum modestly inclined his head still lower. He heard the king pacing the room, but still he did not look up.

"A downcast air," thought he, "betokens perfect obedience and unqualified devotion." The king now stopped before him.

"How do you know it was suicide?"

"I don't know. If it is Your Majesty's pleasure, the countess was drowned by others--"

"My pleasure? I? How?"

"I humbly beg Your Majesty's permission--may I tell all?"

"You must--!"

Summoning all his strength, Baum now said:

"Your Majesty, I found the shoes myself, but I got the hat from a man who is fit to do anything--the gend'arme thinks--that it may perhaps be good for the man--he might be pardoned at the end of a year and sent to America--a brother of his--is said to be--there--"