The Princess Dehra Part 54

Dropping her cape Mrs. Spencer, with the easy hand of a practiced fencer, whipped out the sword she was wearing, in her disguise as an officer, and was speeding to obey, when Dehra caught up one of Colonel Moore's swords from the corner and rushed upon her.

"Guard yourself, d.u.c.h.ess!" Lotzen cried; and she swung around just in time to throw herself between the Princess and the fireplace. Instantly their blades rang together.

The Archduke heard, and out of the side of his eye he saw, and his brow wrinkled in anxiety. Spencer was no novice; she, too, he knew, had learned the gentle art of the foils in her youth, and under French maitres, and she was not to be despised even by one so skilful as the Regent. He had little doubt that he could kill the Duke, but what profit in it if Dehra died. He hesitated to speak, it might disconcert her, and yet he must warn her.

"Watch her play in tierce," he said, in the most casual tone; and almost shouted for joy, when he heard Dehra's little laugh, and her voice calm and easy.

"Thank you, Armand!"

But it very nearly cost him his own life, for in trying to catch a glimpse of her he had loosed his eye-grip, and Lotzen's point shot out viciously, and only a lucky swing aside sent it sc.r.a.ping along the skin instead of through the neck.

"Rather close, cousin!" he remarked.

"The next will be closer," said the Duke softly. "Meanwhile, the Book burns."

But the Archduke did not fall into the trap, and loose the eye-grip a second time.

"Let it burn!" he answered, "I'd rather kill you than save it-but I will do both."

"If you can, cousin! if you can-" and the swords rang on.

And the Duke was right-the Book was burning, slowly, but burning none the less. His throw had been a trifle short, and instead of being in the heart of the fire it was on the outer edge, where the coals were not so glowing. There the leather and metal cover had protected it for a short while, but now the tiny flames were crawling along the edges, shooting up quick pencils of light that flared ever higher and more frequent.

And Dehra caught the gleam when it flashed the brightest, and in a fury of desire she drove at Madeline Spencer. Hitherto she had aimed only to disarm her, now it was the Book at any price.

But the American woman's defense was still impenetrable; defence was her forte-trick, feint, attack, she knew every one, and always her sword blocked them or turned them aside. But there she had stopped; never once had she herself a.s.sumed the offensive. She would take no chance of killing the Regent; and she had soon discovered the Regent was not aiming to kill her. But now she felt the change, and she knew that it was a matter of only a little while until she would have to yield or be sped.

She could hear Lotzen and the Archduke, at the other end of the room, still fighting as fiercely as at the beginning;-the taunting laugh; the quip given, and returned; the crash of a chair as one of them kicked it away; but all she saw was the flitting steel before her, and the Princess' glowing eyes.

Of a sudden there came a burst of voices, the door toward the Council Chamber was dashed open, and Count Epping rushed in, and all the Ministers behind him.

Madeline Spencer drew back and lowered her sword; the Princess sprang to the fire-place and rescued the Book, smothering the flames with the hearth rug; but Lotzen ground out an oath and flung himself with fresh fierceness at the Archduke.

At first even the imperturbable Prime Minister had been too astonished to act; now he came slowly forward, his old, lean face aglow with the joy of the combat and the music of the steel. Then he stopped and stood, watching, head slightly forward, lips half parted, eyes s.h.i.+ning, fingers playing lovingly over his own hilt. Ah! it was a good fight to look upon; a n.o.ble fight, indeed; such masterly sword play he had never seen, nor was ever like to see again; the swift attacks, the fierce rallies, the marvellous agility, the steady eye, the steel wrist. And then, the nerve of him who was losing, and must know it; for Lotzen was losing-surely losing. Twice the Archduke had driven him around the table; now he forced him slowly back ... back ... back ... to the wall ... against it ...

tight against it.

"Yield, cousin!" he said; "it's your last chance."

But the Duke only smiled mockingly and fought on.

With an appealing cry Madeline Spencer darted toward them.

"Spare him, Armand!" she pleaded, "spare him!"

The Archduke stepped out of distance, but with point still advanced.

"Take him!" he said, "take him, and joy with him!"

Ferdinand of Lotzen slowly raised his sword in salute.

"My thanks, cousin!" he said, "I can accept from her what I could not from you. You have bested me-the game is over. I shall not be needed at the reading of the decree.-Your Royal Highness-Messieurs of the Council-I bid you fare-well." He held out his hand to Madeline Spencer. "Come, my d.u.c.h.ess, we will to your Paris and the Rue Royale.-Monsieur le Comte, the door!"-and with all the stately grace and courteous deference of a minuet he led her down the room, and bowed her out, and himself after.

There was a moment of silence; then the Archduke spoke.

"My lords, the Book of Laws is found, or so much of it as the fire has spared. How we chanced to come upon it here will best be told another time; enough now that but for the daring and quick wit of Her Royal Highness, it would have been forever lost." He glanced at the clock. "The hour for the Council has already pa.s.sed. Your Excellency, the Laws are before you, will you do us the favor to read the decree?"

The Count stepped forward and lifted the Book from the rug; of the heavy cover little remained but the bra.s.s hinges; the first few pages were scorched and half consumed, and all the edges charred and split and eaten into by the flames; but otherwise it seemed to be without hurt.

Yet Dehra's hand went to her heart, and her breath came sharply, as slowly and carefully Epping turned the leaves, holding them together the while, lest they break apart. Was the decree there! Might Lotzen have destroyed it-torn it from the Book, before they came upon him!

Then the Count stopped, and bending down read for a moment. When he looked up there was a strange expression on his face; he did not speak at once; and when he did his voice was repressed and almost trembling.

"It is here," he said; "executed the day before King Frederick died. I read it:

"'Section one hundred thirty-first.-It is hereby decreed that His Royal Highness the Archduke Armand shall be eligible to the Crown of Valeria, and he is herewith restored to his proper place in the Line of Succession, as the right heir male of Hugo, second son of Henry the Third.'"

For an instant Armand's brain whirled-then he awoke to Dehra's hands in his, and her voice in his ear, and the shouts and waving blades of the Ministers.

"The ritual, Epping! the ritual!" the Princess cried, and caught up the sword she had tossed aside to rescue the Book-then gasped in wondering fear, as the old Count raised his hand and shook his head.

"Wait!" he said; "there is another decree that comes before the ritual.

Attend!-

"'Section one hundred thirty-second.-Whereas, for the first time in a thousand years the Dalberg has no son: It is hereby decreed that the succession as Head of the House of Dalberg, and, ipso facto, to the Crown of Valeria, together with all their hereditary t.i.tles, powers, possessions and privileges, shall be vested in our only child and daughter, Dehra, Princess Royal of Valeria. And all and every decree conflicting therewith is hereby specifically revoked and annulled.'"

And now the swords were up again, and the Archduke's with them, and the wild huzza roared through the Palace and far into the Park; and Bernheim and Moore, coming down the corridor, dashed into the library and stopped, amazed; then joined in, knowing that it must mean victory.

But Dehra, herself, pale-faced, tear-eyed and trembling, turned and flung her arms around Armand's neck.

"It's wrong, dear! it's wrong!" she cried; "you are the King!-you are the Dalberg!"

"No, sweetheart, it is right!" he said, releasing her arms, and bowing over her hand until his lips touched it. "Praise G.o.d! it is right."

Then he stepped back and flashed his sword above her head; and all the others sprang to meet it, and locked there, a canopy of steel.

"Valeria hails the Head of the House of Dalberg as the Queen!" he cried.

And from every throat came back the answer:

"We hail the Dalberg Queen!"

And now the trembling had pa.s.sed; she looked up at the swords proudly, and stretching out her hand she touched them one by one; but touching Armand's last-and her eyes sought his, and over her face broke the adorable smile, and she drew down his blade, and kissed it.

"Hail, also, to the King!" she said; "your King and mine, my lords!-the King that is to be."

The End