The Puppet Crown Part 21

The Colonel coughed, Maurice smoothed the back of his head, and Fitzgerald caught up his monocle.

"My word, Madame," said Maurice, "is not worth much, being that of a diplomat, but such as it is it is yours. However, my clothes are scarcely presentable," which was true enough. Several b.u.t.tons were missing, and the collar hung by a thread.

"That can be easily remedied," said she. "There are several new hussar uniforms in the armory."

"O, Madame, and you will permit me to wear one of those gay uniforms of light blue and silver lace?"

The Colonel looked thoughtfully at Maurice. He was too much a banterer himself to miss the undercurrent of raillery. He eyed Madame discreetly; he saw that she had accepted merely the surface tones.

"And you will wear one, too, Jack?" said Maurice.

"No, thank you. I pa.s.s my word, Madame; I do not like confinement."

"Well, then, the count will shortly return and establish you in better quarters. Let us suppose you are my guests for a--a fortnight. Since both of us are right, since neither your cause nor mine is wrong, an armistice! Ah! I forgot. The east corridor on the third floor is forbidden you. Should you mistake and go that way, a guard will direct you properly. Messieurs, till dinner!" and with a smile which illumined her face as a sudden burst of sunshine flashes across a hillside, she pa.s.sed out of the room, followed by her henchman, who had not yet put aside the thoughtful repose of his countenance.

"A house party," said Maurice, when he could no longer hear their footsteps. "And what the deuce have they got so valuable in the east corridor on the third floor?"

"It's small matter to me," said Fitzgerald tranquilly. "The main fact is that she has given up her game."

Said Maurice, his face expressing both pity and astonishment: "My dear, dear John! Didn't you see that woman's eyes, her hair, her chin, her nose?"

"Well?"

"True; you haven't had any experience with petticoats. This woman will rend heaven and earth rather than relinquish her projects, or rather those of her mistress. I should like to see this d.u.c.h.ess, who shows a fine discernment in the selection of her a.s.sistants. Beware of the woman who is frankly your enemy. If she is frank, it is because she is confident of the end; if not, she is frank in order to disarm us of the suspicion of cunning. I would give much to know the true meaning of this house party."

"Hang me if I can see what difference it makes. She can not do anything either by frankness or by cunning."

"She gathered us in neatly, this red-haired Amazon."

"Red-haired!" in a kind of protest.

"Why, yes; that's the color, isn't it?" innocently.

"I thought it a red-brown. It's too bad that such a woman should be mixed up in an affair like this."

"Woman will sacrifice to ambition what she never will sacrifice to love.

Hush; I hear the Colonel returning."

They were conducted to the opposite wing of the chateau, to a room on the second floor. Its windows afforded an excellent view of the land which lay south. Hills rolled away like waves of gold, dotted here and there with vineyards. Through the avenue of trees they could see the highway, and beyond, the river, which had its source in the mountains ten miles eastward.

The room itself was in red, evidently a state chamber, for it contained two canopied beds. Several fine paintings hung from the walls, and between the two windows rose one of those pier gla.s.ses which owe their existence to the first empire of France. On one of the beds Maurice saw the hussar uniform. On the dresser were razors and mugs and a pitcher of hot water.

"Ah," he said, with satisfaction.

"The boots may not fit you," said the Colonel, "but if they do not we will manage some way."

"I shall not mind the fortnight," said Maurice. "By the way, Colonel, I notice that French seems to prevail instead of German. Why is that?"

"It is the common language of politeness, and servants do not understand it. As for myself, I naturally prefer the German tongue; it is blunt and honest and lacks the finesse of the French, which is full of evasive words and meanings. However, French predominates at court. Besides, heaven help the foreigner who tries to learn all the German tongues to be found in the empires of the Hohenzollern and Hapsburg. Luncheon will be served to you in the dining hall; the first door to the right at the foot of the grand staircase. I shall send you a trooper to act as valet."

"Spare me, Colonel," said Maurice, who did not want any one between him and the Englishman when they were alone.

"I have never had a valet," said Fitzgerald; "he would embarra.s.s me."

"As you please," said the Colonel, a shade of disappointment in his tones. "After all, you are soldiers, where every man is for himself.

Make yourselves at home;" and he withdrew.

Maurice at once applied lather and razor, and put on the handsome uniform, which fitted him snugly. The coat was tailless, with rows of silver b.u.t.tons running from collar to waist. The breast and shoulders and sleeves were covered with silver lace, and Maurice concluded that it must be nothing less than a captain's uniform. The trousers were tight fitting, with broad stripes of silver; and the half boots were of patent leather. He walked backward and forward before the pier-gla.s.s.

"I say, Fitz, what do you think of it?"

"You're a handsome rascal, Maurice," answered the Englishman, who had watched his young friend, amus.e.m.e.nt in his sober eyes. "Happily, there are no young women present."

"Go to! I'll lay odds that our hostess is under twenty-five."

"I meant young women of sixteen or seventeen. Women such as Madame have long since pa.s.sed the uniform fever."

"Not when it has lace, my friend, court lace. Well, forward to the dining hall."

Both were rather disappointed to find that Madame would be absent until dinner. Fitzgerald could not tell exactly why he was disappointed, and he was angry with himself for the vague regret. Maurice, however, found consolation in the demure French maid who served them. Every time he smiled she made a courtesy, and every time she left the room Maurice nudged Fitzgerald.

"Smile, confound you, smile!" he whispered. "There's never a maid but has her store of gossip, and gossip is information."

"Pshaw!" said Fitzgerald, helping himself to cold ham and chicken.

"Wine, Messieurs?" asked the maid.

"Ah, then Madame offers the cellars?" said Maurice.

"Yes, Messieurs. There is chambertin, champagne, chablis, tokayer and sherry."

"Bring us some chambertin, then."

"Oui, Messieurs."

"Hurry along, my Hebe," said Maurice.

The maid was not on familiar terms with the cla.s.sics, but she told the butler in the pantry that the smooth-faced one made a charming Captain.

"Keep your eyes open," grumbled the butler; "he'll be kissing you next."

"He might do worse," was the retort. Even maids have their mirrors, and hers told a pretty story. When she returned with the wine she asked: "And shall I pour it, Messieurs?"

"No one else shall," declared Maurice. "When is the d.u.c.h.ess to arrive?"

"I do not know, Monsieur," stepping in between the chairs and filling the gla.s.ses with the ruby liquid.

"Who is Madame Sylvia Amerbach?"