  The Archduke put up his field glasses and, turning to the Princess, waved his hand toward the open country, and around to the Castle behind them. “So, dear,” he said, “this is home—the Dalberg aerie and its feeding grounds. I like them well. And particularly do I like the way the nest itself has been kept up to the time in comforts and appointments.” “Do be serious, Armand,” she protested; “haven’t you any sentiment! Look at the wonderful blue of the Voragian mountains; and the shifting shadows on the foot-hills; and this spur, and Lotzen’s yonder, trailing out from them like tendrils of a vine; and the emerald valley, streaked through the center by the sparkling Dreer; and the fair lands to the south, as far as eye can carry, and yet farther, league upon league to the sea—yours, my lord, all yours—the heritage of your House—the Kingdom of your Fathers.” “You have forgot the loveliest thing in all the landscape,” said he, “the one thing that makes the rest worth while.” She sprang from him. “No, sir, not here on the wall in view of the bailey and every window; confine your sentiment at present to the inanimate portion of the landscape.” He went over and leaned on the parapet beside her. “I fear I have quite too much sentiment,” he said; “I have already expended far more than you would believe—on the Castle, and the mountains, and the valley, and all the rest. Now I’m done with it, except for animate objects; the business we have in hand promises to be sufficiently occupying. Yonder is the Book; and how to get it, and quickly.” He leveled his glasses at Lotzen Castle and studied it a long time.... “A pretty hard proposition,” he remarked. “Have you ever been in it?” “Unfortunately, no; but Major Meux has been Constable here for two years, and surely must have been there often—yonder he is now, by the gate tower.” The Archduke caught Meux’s glance and motioned for him. “Major,” said he, “can you give us an idea of the plan of Lotzen Castle?” “I can do better than that, Your Highness, I can show you a plan, drawn to scale and most complete. I came upon it in the library only last week. It’s more than a hundred years old, but I think it is still in effect accurate.” “I wonder how it happens to be here?” said the Princess, with the peculiar curiosity of a woman as to non-essentials. “At the time it was made Lotzen was also a Royal Castle,” the Constable explained; “it was very natural to deposit the draft here with the King’s own records.” As they crossed the main hall, they chanced upon Colonel Moore, and, taking him with them, they went into the library—a great, high-ceilinged room, on the second floor of the keep, the walls hidden by massive, black oak cases, filled with books and folios, in bindings of leather stamped with the Dalberg Lion—and from a shelf in a dark corner the Constable brought a small portfolio, made to resemble a book, in which the draft was folded. “This is admirable,” the Archduke remarked, examining it with the trained eye and instant comprehension of the engineer officer; “it could not be done better now.... See, Dehra, it is the whole fortification, as plain as though we were on the high tower, here—” indicating on the draft. “I suppose so,” she smiled; “but to me it looks only like a lot of black lines, flung down at random and with varying degrees of force; sort of an embroidery pattern, you know.” Armand, bending over the sheet, did not hear her. “What did you make out of this, Major?” he asked; “there seems to be nothing on the key to explain it—might it be intended to indicate a secret passage from the second floor of the keep to the postern?” “That puzzled me also,” said Meux, “but your explanation, sir, seems very likely.—Possibly old Jessac might know something; he has been here for more than seventy years, as a boy, and upper servant, and steward, and now as sort of steward emeritus and general reminiscer; and he has the legends and history of this castle at his tongue’s end.” “Yes,” said the Princess, “if anyone know, it’s Jessac, and I think he served for a time in Lotzen Castle—have him here, Major, if you please.” The old man came, tall, slender, shrivelled of face, white and thin of hair, yet erect and vigorous, despite his almost four and a half score years. They raised men, and kept them long, in the tingling, snapping, life-giving air of the Voragian mountains. “Don’t kneel, Jessac,” the Regent exclaimed, giving him her hand. He bent and kissed it with the most intense devotion. “My little Princess! my little Princess!” he repeated; “God is good to have let old Jessac see you once more before he dies.” Then he straightened, and, turning sharply toward the Archduke, And Armand understood, and went to him, and took his hand, and held it. “Every one loves her, Jessac,” he said, “but none quite as you and I.” Then he drew him over to the table. “Do you know the interior of Lotzen Castle?” he asked. “As I know this one, my lord—I lived in it for twenty years in my young days; even now I could go blindfolded from gate to highest turret.” “Is this plan accurate now? See, here is the gateway, and this is the keep.” “I understand, sir.”—He studied it for a little while, following the lines with his finger, and muttering brokenly to himself, under his breath. “Yes, Your Highness, it’s about the same, except that here is an outer building for servants, and here a storehouse; and the arrangement of the rooms in the main part is some different, particularly on the second floor, where several have been made out of one; but the stairway and hall are still as they always were. Indeed, sir, there has been small change or improvement since long before the present lord’s father died. Duke Ferdinand had never visited it for more than a score of years, until a few weeks ago, just a little while before our gracious master was called——” The old man was garrulous; so far, age had not missed him; and here the Archduke interrupted. “Jessac,” he said kindly, “you have made all that very clear; now can you tell us if there is any secret passage in the castle?” “One, sir,” was the prompt answer; “leastwise, I know one, there may be others.” “And it?” “From the library to the postern gate, near the west tower—this is it, sir,” indicating the line on the plan; “many is the time I’ve used it, his lordship being absent, when I wanted to get out at night; indeed, sir, there is a key to the postern still here, as well as duplicates to almost every door. They were not surrendered when King Henry gave the place to the late Duke—all the locks had been changed shortly before that. Would Your Highness care to see the keys?—they are in the armory.” “Bring them here,” said the Constable quickly.... “I know by experience, sir, that if Jessac get you into the armory, you won’t escape for hours; he has a story for every piece in it, and wants to tell them all.” The old man came back, a dozen large keys jangling; and laid them on the table. “This is to the postern,” he said; “it’s smaller than the others, so it could be carried more easily, you know, sir—these brass tags, sir, show where they belong.” The Archduke looked them over. “I don’t see the key from the library to the secret passage,” he said. “There is none, sir; the big stone in the middle of the side wall of the library, and the one on the right just inside the postern arch, revolve when pushed at the upper edge—this way, Your Highness,” and he demonstrated, using a book as the stone. “Thank you, Jessac,” said Armand, with a smile and a nod of dismissal; “we may want you again to-morrow. I’ll keep the keys,” and he swept them into a drawer of the desk. Then the Constable withdrew, and for a while Armand and Moore studied the plan, and went over the problem confronting them; and which, though greatly simplified now, was still difficult and delicate beyond anything either had ever been obliged to solve. Perilous it was, too—but that neither regarded for himself; and Moore would gladly have assumed it alone could he have insured thereby the Archduke’s safety. Through it all the Princess watched them, harkening carefully to what was said, and saying a few things herself, mainly in the shape of questions which showed that, even if to her the draft did resemble an embroidery pattern, she was astonishingly apt at following the discussion. But when Armand remarked that he would make the attempt that very night, she interposed promptly. “Wait until to-morrow,” she urged; “take at least one night’s rest; you need it; and the extra day may disclose something as to the situation in Lotzen Castle.” “To-night is the proper time,” said the Archduke; “we may not be expected then; we shall be most assuredly to-morrow; it’s our one chance for a surprise.” “And with our dear cousin that chance is no chance, as you are very well aware,” said she; “he knows you are here, and why you are here, and he is ready for you this instant. No, no, dear, it’s simply your natural impetuosity, which I came along to moderate; and here is my first veto: not to-night.” She put her hand on his arm. “Please, Armand, please; don’t you understand—I want to be sure of you a little longer; the day you enter Lotzen Castle may be our last.” Moore turned quickly away—and the Archduke looked once into the soft eyes, and at the adorable smile; and the eyes and the smile conquered, as eyes and smile always will when the one woman uses them, as the one woman always can, if she try. “I ought not to let you persuade me,” he said, with a half serious shake of his hand, “but—you’re pretty hard to resist. At least, you won’t prohibit my riding over toward the Castle, and having a look at it now, in broad day, if I promise not to venture inside nor very near.” “On the contrary, I should like to go with you; come, we will all go—you tell the Ambassador, and I’ll get Helen and Elise,” with a nod and a smile at Moore. “A reconnaissance in force!” the Archduke laughed, when the Regent had gone; then he ordered the horses, and he and Moore went off to get into riding uniform. A wide, macadamized avenue wound sharply down from the castle to the valley, where the roads were of the soil, soft and sandy. Once there, the six loosed bridle and sped away across the level country; nor drew rein but thrice until they came to the forks, where the road to Lotzen took off for its mile of tortuous ascent. Here they halted, and Armand and Moore scanned through their glasses the Castle and its approach; and by riding a very little way up toward it, they were able to see the postern gate, which was on the edge of the hill about a third of the distance around from the bridge, and was approached by a narrow, rain-washed, boulder-strewn path, leading almost straight up the side of the acclivity. The moat ran only across the front, the almost sheer descent on the other sides of the wall having been deemed, even in the old days, quite sufficient protection against assault. “Well,” said the Archduke, as he shoved the glasses back into their case, “thank God, we have old Jessac to tell us how to find that postern path—and, Colonel, before we start, it might be wise They rode back by way of Porgia, the garrison town, five miles down the valley. It was also the railway station for both Castles, though some years before, King Frederick had run a track over as close as possible to Dalberg, so his own train could always be at hand to hurry him away. And there it had brought the Regent that morning, and was now waiting, ready for instant use. A regiment of Uhlans were at drill on the edge of the town, and the Princess waved her cocked hat to them as she cantered by. The Colonel in command answered with his saber, while from two thousand lusty throats went up a wild cheer of passionate devotion. Armand reached over and patted her on the arm. “Surely, dear, the soldiers love you,” he said. “They seem to,”—then out flashed the smile again; “but there is only one I’m sure of,” leaning over close. “You little temptress!” he said, “I’ve a great mind to prove it now.” She laughed merrily. “You may—but catch me first;” and as her horse had the heels of his, she never let him get quite on even terms, no matter what the pace. “Come, dear,” he said, “I’ll promise to wait until we are at the Castle.” “As you wish—but the bend in the road yonder would have hid the others, and there I was—but until the Castle, then.” And when Armand promised double punishment later, she tossed her head, and told him she was always ready to pay for her crimes—and sometimes rather willing. As they turned from the valley road into the avenue, they came face to face with the Duke of Lotzen and Count Bigler, both in full uniform. The Princess was passing on, with a curt return of their salutes, when the Duke drew around in front of her. “Your Royal Highness and myself seem to be unfortunate in our visits to each other,” he said; “I missed yours the other evening, and now you have missed mine.” “You have been to Dalberg Castle?” she asked. He bowed. “For my call of ceremony upon the Regent.” She reined aside. “You are not on the Regent’s list, sir,” she said; “if you wish to save your dignity, you would best not present yourself until summoned.” “I assumed it was restored by your own informal visit,” he smiled.—“Will you not honor Lotzen Castle, also?—and you, too, cousin Armand!” But neither answered him by so much as a look, and with a mocking laugh he went on, saluting the American Ambassador with easy formality, and bestowing upon Mlle. d’EssoldÉ a leeringly suggestive smile, that made Moore frantic to strike him in the face. The Princess’ toilet was finished very early that evening, and then she sent for her Adjutant. “Colonel Moore,” said she, motioning him to be seated, “I am resolved that the Archduke shall not venture into Lotzen Castle to-morrow night, and therefore, I am going myself to-night; will you go with me?” Moore’s amazement deprived him of an immediate answer. “But, Your Highness!—” he stammered. “It is quite useless to protest; I’m going; if you do not care to escort me, I shall get Bernheim.” “Let me go alone,” he urged. “No.” “And the Archduke, what of him?” he asked. “The Archduke stays here, serenely ignorant of it all.” “He will never forgive me——” She cut him short. “Very well, monsieur, you are excused—be so good as to send Colonel Bernheim to me at once—and I trust to your honor not to mention the affair to any one.” He had done all he dared; more, indeed, than he had fancied she would tolerate. A subordinate may not argue for long with the Regent of a Kingdom, however sweet-tempered she may be. “Your Highness misunderstands,” he said; “if you are determined to go, there is an end of the matter; naturally, your Adjutant goes also.” She smiled. “Now, that is better—and I’m glad—and we will take De Coursey and Marsov, and slip away at midnight, with old Jessac for guide. The secret passage opens into the Duke’s library, we get the Book and retire.” “Vault and all?” Moore asked. “You don’t remember the draft, Colonel, there isn’t a vault.” “Doubtless, however, there is a safe.” She waved her hand impatiently. “It will be time enough for that when we get there.” “And if we can’t find the Book in the library?” he persisted. “Then we will seek it elsewhere—it’s just that contingency which sends me. If I were sure it is in the library, I might let the Archduke go.” “Yet will you not take some precaution for your own safety, in event of Lotzen overcoming us?” Moore asked. “I can’t bring myself to believe that he would venture to harm the Regent, but, if he should, these,” pushing two papers across to him, “ought to be sufficient.” “Your Highness is a strategist,” said the Colonel, when he had read them. “I have nothing to suggest; and I’m ready now to go with a more willing spirit and a lighter heart.” She held out her hand, and flashed him the smile, usually reserved for Armand, alone. “And we will save the king, Ralph—you and I; and give him the Book, and speed him to his crowning. I leave the details to you, to see the others, and instruct and caution them; remember, for the Archduke to get the slightest suspicion would ruin everything. It will be for me to see that he retires early to-night. Now, do you, yourself, seek out Bernheim and send him to me quickly.” “My good friend,” said she, acknowledging Bernheim’s stiff military salute with one equally formal, “I need your aid in a matter of peculiar importance and delicacy—and which must not, under any circumstance, be known to any one in the Castle, and above all not to His Highness the Archduke—not a whisper of it, Colonel Bernheim.” Bernheim’s answer was another salute, but he could say as much with it, in an instant, as some men in an hour of talk. “Here are two sealed orders,” she continued; “immediately after dinner you will ride down to Porgia; there, not before, you will open the one addressed to yourself, and deliver the other to the Commanding Officer of the garrison. For the rest, the orders will speak for themselves.” Once more, the martinet’s hand went up. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said; “but how am I to go without getting leave from the Archduke?” “I will get it for you—you need not say anything to him—just go——Ah! there he is now—Armand,” said she, when he had greeted her, “I want to borrow Colonel Bernheim for a little while after dinner, may I have him?” “Take him,” said the Archduke, with a smile at his Aide; and when Bernheim had gone: “but why don’t you borrow me instead?” “Because, sweetheart, one doesn’t need to borrow what one has,” she answered, and gave him both her hands. |
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