CHAPTER III.

When the lord steward entered, the king had recovered his self-command and had settled upon the course he should pursue.

"Have you heard the terrible news?"

"I have, Your Majesty. The countess's maid has arrived; her mistress was drowned in the lake."

"And--?" asked the king, when he found the lord steward paused.

"And it is also said that, after her father's death, the countess neither saw nor spoke to any one. But she, nevertheless, wrote a few words to the queen, with the request that Doctor Gunther should deliver them."

"And was it done without previously informing me?"

The lord steward shrugged his shoulders.

"Very well; I know--" continued the king. "Is everything in readiness for the hunt?"

"At Your Majesty's pleasure. The hunting party has been waiting for an hour."

"I'm coming," said the king. "Send Doctor Sixtus to the lake and tell him to take Baum with him, for he knows all about the affair. Let him also take the notary with him, and tell him to see that the body, if found, be suitably interred. I know that you will have everything properly attended to; act on your own good judgment in the matter."

The king laid especial stress on the last words. Everything was to be managed discreetly; every appearance of undue interest, on his part, was to be avoided.

The king knit his brows, as if trying to think of something he had forgotten. "One thing more," added he, hastily. "Go to the poor countess's brother, and break the news to him as gently as you can.

Should he desire leave of absence, you may inform him that it is granted for an indefinite time."

The king pa.s.sed out through the anteroom and down the staircase. Rest and quiet had been prescribed for the queen, and, in order to avoid arousing her early in the morning, he had bade adieu to her the night before.

The hunting party a.s.sembled in the palace yard greeted the king, who graciously returned their salutation. In an instant, and as if by word of command, the covers were removed from the carriage-horses.

"Colonel Bronnen," exclaimed the king, "come sit with me."

Bronnen bowed in respectful acknowledgment of the compliment, and stepped up to the king's carriage. The gentlemen of the party, amazed at the honor paid the colonel, got into their carriages. Bronnen had bowed respectfully--for the highest honor of the day had been conferred upon him--but there was a struggle within his heart. Had the king the faintest idea that Bronnen felt himself the avenger of old Eberhard, or that he was wrestling with himself as to whether or not he should take up the vendetta? He started when he involuntarily touched the hanger at his side. Was the royal carriage to be the scene of a tragedy, such as history had never yet known? Had Irma vauntingly told the king that he was a rejected suitor for her hand? and was he now to receive the alms of sympathy?

The party drove on into the open country. The king was silent for a long time. At last, he said:

"You were also a true friend of hers. There were few--indeed, there was no one--who she honored and esteemed as she did you. Her constant wish was that we should be more closely united."

Bronnen drew a long breath. There was no occasion for his saying anything. The king offered him his cigar case.

"Ah, you don't smoke," he said.

There was another long pause, which was at last broken by the king's asking:

"How long had you known Countess Irma?"

"From childhood. She was the friend of my cousin Emma, with whom she was at the convent."

"It comforts me to be able to speak to you of our friend. You understood her character. It was great, almost supernaturally so.

Suffer me to inherit your friendship for her."

"Your Majesty--" replied Bronnen with constrained composure; for his heart was boiling with indignation at the man who had corrupted this n.o.ble creature and had driven her to self-destruction. But his military feeling of respect for his superiors held him in check.

"Ah, dearest Bronnen!" continued the king, "no death has ever affected me so. Did she ever speak to you of death? She hated it. And yet, when I look about me, all is life. When a great heart ceases to beat, the whole world should pause, though it were but for a moment. What are we, after all?"

"Each of us is but a small, limited portion of the world. Everything about us has its due sphere of development and right. We are masters only of ourselves, and how few of us can claim to be even that!"

The king looked at Bronnen in surprise. Every one has a sphere of right--What could he have meant by it? Hastily collecting himself, the king replied: "She might have used the very same words. I can easily imagine how much you sympathized with each other. If I understand rightly, you regard suicide as the greatest of crimes?"

"If that which is most unnatural is, therefore, the greatest crime, I certainly do. 'Self-preservation is the first law of nature.' I shall never forget a conversation I had with old Count Eberhard, last winter, upon this very subject."

"Ah yes, you knew him. Was he really a great man?"

"He was a man of one idea, of grand one-sidedness. But perhaps this is a necessary condition of greatness."

"When did you speak with Countess Irma for the last time?"

"After her father's death, when she had shut herself up in impenetrable darkness. I spoke to her, but could not see her, although she extended her hand to me. I believe that I am the last man who held her hand in his."

"Then let me take your hand in mine!" exclaimed the king.

He held Bronnen's hand in his for a long time, until the latter said:

"Your Majesty, confession for confession.--I loved Irma!"

He spoke in a curt and bitter tone. The king hastily withdrew his hand.

"I see," continued Bronnen, gathering all his strength, "that the countess has mentioned nothing of my suit. I thank her, even now, for this proof of her n.o.ble, generous heart. Since she could not honestly return my love, she frankly declined it."

"You? my dear Bronnen!" exclaimed the king, in a tone that betrayed his painful agitation. He could not help thinking of the happy life which, as the wife of this man, Irma might have led. "My poor friend!" he added, in a voice full of feeling.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I have a right to mourn with you, and it seems as if her powerful, all-embracing mind were still potent, and had caused Your Majesty to call me to your side."

"I never dreamt of such a thing. If I had, I would not have inflicted this pain upon you."

"And I thank Your Majesty for permitting me to share in your grief.

Because I share it with you, I am able to comfort you; that is, as far as another can. Since Your Majesty is so frank with me, I must needs be as frank in return."

The king was silent for a long time. Although Bronnen had opened his heart to him, the immediate effect upon him was to rouse a deep feeling of jealousy. He could not brook the thought that another had dared to cast his eye upon Irma; aye, actually to woo her. She seemed no longer entirely his own, since another had stretched out his hand toward her.

Bronnen waited for the king's answer. He could not understand what his silence meant. Had the king repented of his frankness? Did it offend him to find that another had placed himself on a level with him and answered him frankly and fearlessly? The consciousness of royalty trenches upon that of manhood, and perhaps it never happens that a prince thinks of himself simply as a human being. Bronnen felt vexed at the king's silence and averted looks. He could stand it no longer and, at last, feeling that, at such a moment etiquette could be disregarded, he said:

"I think that few men are great-minded enough to keep all knowledge of their conquests to themselves."

This remark had a double meaning, and Bronnen would not have been surprised if the king had turned upon him with a crushing reply. He felt defiant and yet composed. The man to whom he had revealed his soul's secret, must not act as if nothing had happened; he must answer for himself.

The king still remained silent.