MarÉchal le Duc de Villars was no brilliant, victorious hero, judged by the standard of a century which had seen such military geniuses as Turenne, as the great CondÉ, as Marlborough and Eugene of Savoy. Villars was essentially a wily tactician, and his exploits were useful, but he lacked the dash, the verve which characterise the great commanders of that epoch. It was his system to overrun an invaded country, skilfully avoiding actual combat with the defending army, which pursued him impotently along the ghastly trail of ravage. Thus Villars, with no loss to his troops, spread famine through the land, for he plundered and devastated wherever he passed. He conducted the brief invasion of Wirtemberg in 1707 on these lines. Crossing the Rhine during the night of May 21st, he plunged unopposed into the very heart of the Swabian land. Eberhard Ludwig, who, along with the Elector of Hanover, commanded one portion of the Imperial army, executed a turning movement mighty like a retreat, but Villars had so overpowering a majority of men that an attack upon their united strength would have been more than hazardous. Thus the whole country lay at the Frenchmen's mercy, and they swarmed over town, village, and farm, harrying, burning, pillaging, and always disappearing ere the would-be defenders came up. Eberhard Ludwig followed hotly, hoping to engage separate columns of the huge army, but it was too late, and after a futile pursuit round the entire country, he had the chagrin of seeing the French enter Stuttgart. Here Villars remained but a few days. Wilhelmine said afterwards that 'l'ennui de Stuttgard' had proved a greater defence than the entire Imperial army! Be this as it may, Villars evacuated Stuttgart in an amazingly short time, and retired eastwards to the ancient town of Schorndorf. Now the Duchess-mother emerged from her dower-house at Stetten, and craved a meeting with the Duc de Villars, who, as a gentleman, could not refuse the ancient dame's request.

There is a popular tradition that they met in a field between Schorndorf and Stetten, neither being willing to accept the hospitality of the other, and that here they discussed and settled the terms of the evacuation of Wirtemberg and the sum of the indemnity, all of which was afterwards solemnly ratified by the Geheimraths of Stuttgart, who, willingly, permitted the Duchess-mother to bear nearly the entire cost of the indemnity, a matter of some two hundred thousand gulden. Villars, upon payment of this sum, half of which he is reported by German historians to have retained for his own uses, now left Wirtemberg, and marched towards the French frontier, leaving, however, six thousand men under General Vivant in the country.

The Imperial army under command of the Elector of Hanover was at Heilbronn in Wirtemberg, a mediÆval Imperial free town. Eberhard Ludwig, in command of the Wirtemberg contingent, was with the army. His Highness had taken up his quarters in the ancient Abbey of Maulbronn, between which and Heilbronn spread the encampment of the Imperial army. Eberhard Ludwig had chosen Maulbronn for his quarters, thinking that the peace of the Monastery, with its shadowy, highly vaulted cloisters, and its old-world garden, might soothe the restlessness which had devoured his being since his absence from Wilhelmine. In Maulbronn's garden stands the haunted tower where legend says that Doctor Faustus, the frenzied searcher for the elixir of eternal life, bartered his soul to Satan in return for a span of youth and love. The Faust tower faces the great cloister, and they say the Doctor, when sealing his pact with the devil, was disturbed by the monks' chanting.

Eberhard Ludwig revelled in the garden and its fantastic legends, but his yearning for Wilhelmine only grew the stronger. Why was she not with him to dream in the cool silence of the cloister? How she would love the garden with its luxuriance of old-world flowers—the fragrant roses planted by some long-dead monk—the huge tree-peonies. The very breezes seemed legend-laden. Wilhelmine! beloved! It was a futile thing indeed for this poet-prince to endeavour to forget the woman he loved! In a garden so wondrous beautiful, in this place of dreaming, he could but dream the more. So, when the news came that Villars had retired, his Highness decided he must follow Wilhelmine to Switzerland forthwith. Forstner was summoned, and the Wirtemberg troops placed under his command. Of course he protested he was not efficient, but, as usual, Eberhard Ludwig the impetuous overruled him.

The news of his Highness's departure caused angry consternation in Stuttgart. Johanna Elizabetha wept, but the Duchess-mother raged. She had fancied that her son, deeply obliged to her for her generous action of the war indemnity, would listen to her reasonable voice as a reward.

'Ridiculous!' he argued. 'I never asked her to pay the indemnity; if she chooses to do so, well and good, but it does not bind me to obedience.'

There is a pathetic letter from the Duchess-mother to her son, a dignified epistle with a very human postscriptum, wherein bubbles over a mother's hatred for her son's seducer, the honest woman's furious disdain of the triumphant charm of an adventuress.

'MagdalÈne Sybille, Princesse de Hesse Darmstadt,
'Duchesse DouairiÈre de Wirtemberg.

Possibly, had the Duchess-mother denied herself the satisfaction of writing this postscriptum, Eberhard Ludwig might indeed have returned to Stuttgart for a time, and who can tell how a man's fancy may vary in a few months? But being a lover and a chivalrous gentleman, the unfortunate paragraph roused him to a white heat of championship for his mistress. What! she 'une p——?' Ah! how evil was the world! No man, and, above all, no woman, could understand Wilhelmine. She was grossly misjudged, cruelly persecuted. Thus, when he read this letter from his mother (which reached him when he was starting for Switzerland), he only shrugged his shoulders angrily, and crushing the missive into his saddle holster, spurred his horse forward, and galloped southward to the calumniated lady of his heart.

Wilhelmine had passed a solitary two months at Schaffhausen. Zollern's castle stood on the left bank of the Rhine, overlooking the great waterfall, whose delicious thunder had soothed her to calmer thoughts. She passed the long hours in reading and making music, and the peaceful days had added brilliancy to her splendid healthfulness. Thus, when Eberhard Ludwig came to Schaffhausen, he found her an even more forceful, vital, fresh-skinned woman than had been the beautiful girl he left at Stuttgart.

She met him with passionate happiness, and for a few days their intercourse was a prolonged rhapsody of the senses. At length, however, their dream was broken by the unwelcome advent of a messenger with despatches from Vienna to Field-Marshal of the Imperial Army, Commander of the Swabian Army Corps, Monseigneur le Duc de Wirtemberg. His Highness was furious, also anxious. Why had the fool Forstner not attended to these despatches? They were important commands concerning the army, and needed immediate attention, and now, having been all the way to Heilbronn, here they were sent to Switzerland! His Highness fumed, cursed Forstner; it was exceedingly awkward, orders from Vienna, and Eberhard Ludwig in Switzerland. He had given full power to Forstner to transact all business in his name.

'Of course, a plot,' said Wilhelmine, 'a plot to separate us again!'

His Highness was anxious, but she soothed him as usual, and he sent the despatches back with orders to Forstner to attend to the business. Peace again for a day or so, then Forstner arrived at Schaffhausen. 'Why in hell's name do you follow me, M. de Forstner?' was the Duke's greeting.

'I come because it is my duty, Monseigneur!'

'Your duty? Let me remind you that your duty lies where I left you—with the army. But now that you have come, kindly tell me your errand.' It was harshly said, and Forstner was deeply wounded. Could this be the noble, courteous prince he had served for many years, the friend of his childhood, the gallant companion in arms? Poor Forstner, he had yet to discover that the tiresome friend is always ill-treated eventually.

'My errand, Monseigneur, will be unwelcome to you, I know, for I have come to urge you to return to the army immediately. The Elector of Hanover is furious at your Highness's sudden departure. He says openly that it is contrary to both military discipline and, I regret, mon Prince, to honour. He says if all his generals permitted themselves to run after their mistresses when it suited them, the army would be in a parlous state.' Indeed the Elector of Hanover had expressed himself in less measured words.

'I am a Prince commanding my own troops allied with the Imperial army, and I am at liberty to go and come without permission from M. l'Electeur,' said Eberhard Ludwig haughtily.

'I implore your Highness to listen to reason,' cried Forstner; 'you are jeopardising your reputation as a soldier for the sake of a ——'

The epithet he used was forcible, and Eberhard Ludwig started forward angrily.

'Yes, it is the task of a true friend to speak the truth without reserve' (alas, Forstner!), 'and Mademoiselle de GrÄvenitz is an abandoned woman.' As he uttered these words Wilhelmine entered the apartment.

'Mon Prince, is it thus you permit your friends to speak of me?' she said in a low voice.

'A thousand times no!' cried his Highness. 'Forstner, you leave my service for ever. Go!' He pointed dramatically to the door, but Forstner had not concluded his peroration, and he had no intention of being silenced this time; he was a diligent, persistent friend, poor soul. 'Mademoiselle de GrÄvenitz, I appeal to you; his Highness is playing a ridiculous rÔle in the sight of Europe! Give him up, send him back to duty, to honour, to his great military career!'

'Monsieur, you come here to dictate to his Highness, it seems! Since when is that your right?' She spoke sneeringly, and Eberhard Ludwig felt that her taunt was directed in part at himself. She did not deem him capable of resisting Forstner, perhaps? she considered him as a being whose conduct could be dictated.

'I know my duty, sir,' he said; 'you have no need to teach it me.'

'Indeed, Monseigneur, you have forgotten it since yonder lady's advent!' Forstner was getting beyond himself.

'I have not forgotten how to defend from insult the lady whom I love and honour,' said Eberhard Ludwig coldly, 'and I request you, Forstner, to withdraw immediately.'

'Mademoiselle de GrÄvenitz, you have ruined his Highness!' shouted Forstner; 'he is untrue to all his vows: you are a ——'; but his words are unrepeatable, even Wilhelmine shrank back. Eberhard Ludwig drew his sword and forced his over-zealous friend through the door.

A moment afterwards his Highness returned and, flinging himself upon his knees before the GrÄvenitz, poured forth a torrent of adoring words, but the lady remained impervious to his pleading.

'I cannot suffer such treatment,' she answered; 'I can but beg your Highness to depart from me for ever. I shall reside here, drag out a solitary existence in this refuge which my friend Monseigneur de Zollern has given me! Your Highness cannot defend me from insult, and I do not choose to be flaunted as a wanton.'

'Alas, what can I do? I will give you all, but I have not the power to legalise your position.'

'So I see, Monseigneur, and therefore I beg you to depart.'

'Wilhelmine, do you love me? Alas! alas!'

'I love you, mon Prince, but these taunts are unbearable. I have no one to protect me—you cannot, for you yourself are the cause of all the indignities heaped upon me.''Ah, would that I could make you Duchess, my wife, safe from insult!'

'You dare not, though other princes have had the courage thus to shield those they loved.'

'I dare not? I? God! who shall tell me that I dare not?' he cried.

'You dare not,' she answered, and again as she swept from the room, over her shoulder she flung scornfully: 'You dare not!'

In the panelled living-room of the Neuhaus, on the morning of the 29th July 1707, Madame de Ruth and her peasant servant were busying themselves with a large table and a heap of silken hangings. The lady was draping the table with these, and her efforts had caused her highly piled-up head-dress to become deranged; the elaborate structure leaned on one side and scattered a shower of powder over Madame de Ruth's shoulders. The servant interrupted his work of hammering nails into the draped silk on the table; he stared at his mistress and grinned. 'Go on, stupid head, and never mind an old woman's hairdress,' she said good-humouredly. 'I shall be fine enough this afternoon, and so wilt thou, for I shall give thee a new coat.' She rose from her knees and surveyed her handiwork. Taking a large bowl filled with roses, she placed it upon the table, then she went to a cupboard and began to hunt through its varied contents. She sought a Bible, and indeed it was the first time in her life that she had searched the Scriptures, as she reflected grimly. She had a dim recollection of having seen a worn Bible consorting oddly with the other books in that cupboard. After some time she found the Bible and placed it upon the silk-draped table. She stood a moment absent-mindedly, gazing from the window at the sunlight playing through the delicate tracery in the beech branches without, her hands mechanically turning over the leaves of the Bible. Suddenly her fingers touched something between the pages, something that crumbled away beneath her touch, a withered flower, the faded, brittle ghost of some vanished summer day. She drew away her hand quickly as though the flower stung her. It had conjured up the long-past loss and sorrow of a day when she had given birth to a child and Death came hurrying to gather the little life. Madame de Ruth remembered how eagerly she had read in the Book of Life during the sad hours of her recovery, seeking wildly, miserably for consolation, and she recalled how the kind old peasant woman, who nursed and mourned with her for the baby's loss, had brought her a flower which bloomed near the piteously small mound beneath which the little one slept for ever. And Madame de Ruth had laid the blossom tenderly between the Bible's pages, and now, after long years of forgetful gaiety and dissipation, the yearning, unsatisfied motherhood welled up in her heart and she wept again.

Once more we are in the panelled room at Neuhaus, and again is assembled the company which on that portentous November evening of the preceding year had discussed the plan of summoning Wilhelmine von GrÄvenitz, she who was to be their tool in an ordinary court intrigue. Madame de Ruth, the hostess; Monseigneur de Zollern; Friedrich GrÄvenitz, since a few days become Count of the Empire; Marie GrÄvenitz, his bigoted Catholic wife; Monsieur the Hofmarshal Stafforth.

'It is madness, rank lunacy!' Stafforth was saying vehemently. 'Illegal and impossible, it will spell disgrace and misfortune to us all. The Emperor will interfere, for this is going too far. We must hinder this farcical ceremony; his Highness cannot marry two wives! It will be MÖmpelgard over again! Think how absurd, GrÄvenitz! Cannot you see that this farce is bigamy?'

Count GrÄvenitz held his hands over his brow. 'I agree with you, Monsieur de Stafforth. My sister goes too far. It is very hard on me; I advised her to be satisfied with a settled annuity, and to live peacefully with me, her brother, the head of her house. His Highness can always visit her—a great honour indeed——' He broke off, seeing the sneer on Monseigneur de Zollern's face.

'I wash my hands of the whole affair!' cried GrÄvenitz distractedly. 'Ce cher Pilate,' murmured Zollern. Madame de Ruth laughed.

'GrÄvenitz, your sister will be Duchess, never fear! Marie, she will befriend the Holy Church in Wirtemberg.' Madame de Ruth addressed herself to Marie GrÄvenitz, but it was Zollern whom she observed as she spoke. 'Stafforth, you will become a Count; and for myself, I shall see the last of her Dull Highness from Baden. That is my reward.' She laughed, but no responsive gaiety came from the rest of the company. Indeed, the intrigue had assumed proportions which alarmed Wilhelmine's allies. Her brother had learned to fear her—he was jealous of her now. Stafforth, having been foolish enough to incur her displeasure by tactless amorous advances, feared that once her position became unassailable she would cause him to be dismissed from court. Marie GrÄvenitz was horrified at the idea of her sister-in-law's great success; she said it was sinful. Poor soul, she was very jealous. Zollern, however, regarded the strange marriage with favour. He foresaw the complications ahead, and intended to steer for a happy landing of the Prince and his new bride on the eternal shores of Roman Catholicism. The Pope would declare Eberhard Ludwig's former alliance with Johanna Elizabetha to be null and void, and, in return, the Duchy of Wirtemberg would be gathered back to the Holy Church.

Madame de Ruth alone rejoiced honestly in the brilliant ending of the 'great intrigue,' and if there was another thought in her mind, it was delight at the discomfiture of the dull Duchess; but chiefly the old courtesan was happy that this honour befell her friend. She had conceived a real affection for Wilhelmine.

Zollern tapped his cane on the parquet floor, rhythmically, persistently. To Madame de Ruth the tapping sound seemed to beat on her brain, and she put out her hand imploring silence. 'How gay, my friends!' she exclaimed; 'really, we owe our friend a little merriment on her wedding day!'

'I do not think I can permit my sister to go through this marriage ceremony. It would show a nicer spirit towards me, the head of her house, if she considered the difficulties she may land me in——'

'BontÉ divine! GrÄvenitz, what foolishness!' said Madame de Ruth sharply. 'If you could manage to forget your own important existence for a time——' She was interrupted by the entry of a personage of clerical appearance. Madame de Ruth rose to greet the new arrival. 'HochwÜrden,' she said in German, 'you received my letter? and you are ready to do as I require—ask no questions and marry a couple, you may know who, but on that head silence until your testimony is necessary; and then you are prepared to swear you have married them in all legal and religious form? In return a hundred gulden, and I undertake also to have the Pfarrhaus repaired. Is that well? yes?—well, let me present you: Monseigneur de Zollern you have the honour to know already; M. le Comte de GrÄvenitz, Madame la Comtesse, M. de Stafforth, may I present to you Herr Pfahler, Pastor of the Lutheran Church at Aalendorf?'

The man bowed deeply to each in turn. Marie GrÄvenitz scarcely acknowledged his salute for fear of endangering her Catholic soul by intercourse with a Protestant pastor.

'Now, Herr Pastor, are those arrangements complete? See here, I have draped you an altar. Oh! unnecessary, you say, for a Lutheran marriage? I regret, enfin—so much prettier, hein? Well, you can stand before it to marry our friends, it will not affect you! Then, here are two cushions for them to kneel on; a Bible, pen, and paper for the legal documents. Yes, is that all? Well, I may now call our friends,' and she rustled out of the room.

A constrained silence fell on the four occupants of the apartment. The Pastor who had followed after Madame de Ruth to don his black 'talar,' the clerical gown of the Lutheran divine, returned and took up his position before the altar table. He busied himself turning over the leaves of the Bible, and the faded flower fluttered out and fell on to one of the cushions prepared for the bride and bridegroom. The door opened and Eberhard Ludwig, Duke of Wirtemberg, entered the room. He bowed gravely to the assembled company, then moved forward and stood facing Pfahler before the improvised altar. The guests had risen at his Highness's entry. The silence was intense. Of a sudden a huge black form bounded through the window. Marie GrÄvenitz screamed shrilly, and the Herr Pastor started violently.

'It is only my dog, Madame,' said his Highness. 'He has found me after all. I left him locked up in my sleeping-room. Here, MÉlac, lie down! quiet! good dog!' he called, and the wolf-hound obediently stretched himself beside the Duke.

'I thought it was the devil,' Marie GrÄvenitz whimpered.

'The devil, Madame, come to attend these espousals,' remarked Stafforth with a sneer.

'Silence, Monsieur,' said his Highness haughtily; and once more a brooding stillness fell on the company, broken only by MÉlac's heavy breathing, and the flutter of the Bible's pages between the Pastor's nervous fingers. Would the bride never come? this waiting was intolerable. Eberhard Ludwig stood stern and silent, his hand resting on his rapier's hilt. At length there came the swish of silken garments rasping over the rough wooden boards of the corridor floor. Once more the door was flung open, and Wilhelmine von GrÄvenitz stood on the threshold. She looked like some lavish flower of a tropic clime, a gorgeous white blossom, surrounded by rich golden outer petals. Her gown was of the delicate yellow colour which she loved, and her bare breast was creamy white, and showing the blue tracery of the veins through the fine skin. From her shoulders fell a heavy white brocade cloak, trimmed with ermine like the coronation robe of a queen. Her hair was powdered and piled high on her head, the towering masses adding height to her great stature. She looked a queen among women, a glorious figure of youth and majesty, and it was little wonder that Eberhard Ludwig was enthralled.

'Dressed as a royal princess already!' spitefully whispered Stafforth to Marie GrÄvenitz, who looked at her radiant sister-in-law with envy written on her narrow face.

Eberhard Ludwig came forward, bowed profoundly before his bride, and led her towards the altar. The Pastor stared in astonishment when he saw the woman he had undertaken to marry to his Prince, for he recognised the traveller he had met at TÜbingen. The stranger's face had haunted his dreams.

And now the brief ceremony commenced. The Pastor, evidently nervous, mumbled his words indistinctly; and of a truth, no one of the assembled company paid much heed to the sermon and prayers, for each was busy with thoughts of personal ambition and intrigue, excepting Marie GrÄvenitz, whose lips moved rapidly in prayer that she might be forgiven for taking part in an heretical rite. Madame de Ruth watched Wilhelmine with adoring eyes; perchance she dreamed this beautiful woman to be her child returned to her. Poor mite, who slept forgotten in its tiny grave——!

'May the blessing of God rest upon you, and may God enable you to keep sacred the vows you have made this day,' concluded the Pastor, and the bride and bridegroom rose from their knees.

'I have the honour to present to you Madame la Comtesse d'Urach, which title I hereby confer upon my beloved wife, pending the bestowal of the first title of my Dukedom, which I shall hope to be able to offer to my wife in a few months' time. Meanwhile, I beg you, my friends, of your good feeling, to pay the same respects and courtesies to the Countess of Urach as you, so kindly, pay to myself.'

Up jumped Madame de Ruth and kissed Wilhelmine on both cheeks, then sank to the ground before her in a deep courtesy; but the other friends hung back, save Zollern, who came forward and, bowing over the bride's hand, remarked: 'To every beautiful woman should be rendered homage.' It was an adroit compromise, half reminder, half graceful, tactful compliment, for naturally a Prince of his house could not be expected to pay royal honours to any Countess of Urach—or even Duchess of Wirtemberg, save from courtesy or worldly wisdom. Stafforth, the adventurer, had an ugly sneer on his countenance, and was evidently embarrassed, so took refuge in the frequent attitude of the vulgar when ill at ease—a noisy jocularity.

'Ha! ha!' he laughed boisterously, 'and now for the wedding feast! Bride and bridegroom, come along—and we'll have a song to cheer us!' Friedrich GrÄvenitz, full of fictitious emotion, was kissing his sister's hand repeatedly, and making little speeches to her, the beauty of which moved him almost to tears; though when he saw no one was admiring him, he retired in aggrieved silence, thinking 'What a bad spirit these people show towards me!'

Marie GrÄvenitz stiffly congratulated her sister-in-law, and pressed a meagre cheekbone against Wilhelmine's glowing face; she called this a kiss. Pfahler bowed before the bride: 'I have had the honour to meet your Highness,'—Wilhelmine started, Zollern tapped with his stick impatiently—'to meet your Highness before—one day at TÜbingen; but your Highness could not recollect. I had no idea then that I was speaking with so exalted a lady.'

'Nor were you then,' said Wilhelmine with that bright humorous smile of hers; 'but indeed, HochwÜrden, I do remember, and I recollect how you told me of the history of master races cradled in the Swabian hills.'

'I have assisted to-day at a great historic scene. May a new race of strong men and princes arise herefrom!' said Pfahler, the historic dreamer.

'Umph! ces bourgeois hÉrÉtiques ne savent jamais trouver le juste milieu,' growled Zollern to Madame de Ruth.

Now his Highness became impatient, the embarrassment of the scene seemed to grow each moment. 'A thousand thanks, dear friend,' he said, turning to Madame de Ruth, 'a thousand thanks for all you have done for us, but we must leave you now. Come, bid us God-speed!' He led the way from the panelled room to the house door, before which stood a chaise de poste with six horses, which the three postillions restrained with difficulty. Dressed in his fine new coat, the peasant servant of Neuhaus stood grinning in the background.

'Come, Madame!' called his Highness. Wilhelmine sprang into the chaise, and Madame de Ruth, perilously balanced on the step, wrapped a white lace mantilla round the bride. The horses bounded forward, and, urged by the postillions, raced away at a hand gallop.

This was the first of that furious driving with which the favourite, in after years, habitually dashed through the country. It was one of the causes of her unpopularity with the peasants; they cursed her and her wild horses. 'Why such haste to do the devil's work?' they muttered; and they cursed the dust which the chariot left, as the hated GrÄvenitzin thundered through the villages.