The Puppet Crown Part 26

He turned over the horses to the grooms, and went in search of Fitzgerald to inform him of his discovery; but the Englishman was nowhere to be found. Neither was Madame. Being thirsty, he proceeded to the dining hall. Fadette, the maid, was laying the silver.

"Ah, the `pantry maid,'" he thought. "Good day, Fadette."

"Does Monsieur wish for something?"

"A gla.s.s of water. Thanks!"

She retreated and kept her eyes lowered.

"Fadette, you are charming. Has any one ever told you that?"

"O, Monsieur!" blus.h.i.+ng.

"Have they?" lessening the distance between them.

"Sometimes," faintly. She could not withstand his glance, so she retired a few more steps, only to find herself up with the wall.

With a laugh he sprang forward and caught her face between his hands and imprinted a kiss on her left cheek. Suddenly she wrenched herself loose, uttered a frightened cry and fled down the pantryway.

"What's the matter with the girl?" he muttered aloud. "I wanted to ask her some questions."

"Ask them of me, Monsieur," said a voice from the doorway.

Maurice wheeled. It was Madame, but her face expressed nothing. He saw that he had been caught. The humor of the situation got the better of him, and he laughed. Madame ignored this unseemly hilarity.

"Monsieur, is this the way you return my kindness?"

"Permit me to apologize. As to your kindness, I have just discovered that it is of a most dangerous quality."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I could not kiss Madame the countess with the same sense of security as I could the--pantry maid," bowing.

Just now Madame's face expressed a good deal. "Of what are you talking?"

advancing a step.

"I had in mind what our friend, Colonel Beauvais, remarked in his recent dispatch: I know no discrimination. The fact is, I do. I found the dispatch on the floor this morning. Allow me to return it to you. I have kept silent, Madame, because I did not know how to act."

"You have dared--?" her lips pressed and her eyes thunderous.

"To read it? Aye. I am a prisoner; it was in self-defense. Madame, you do me great honor. A countess! What consideration to the indiscriminate!

Au revoir, then, till luncheon;" and he left the room, whistling--

Voici le sabre de mon pere!

CHAPTER XI. THE DENOUEMENT

At no time during the afternoon did Maurice find the opportunity to speak privately to Fitzgerald. Madame hovered about, chatting, smiling and humming s.n.a.t.c.hes of song. She seemed to have formed a sudden attachment for Maurice; that is to say, she could not bear to lose sight of him, not for the briefest moment.

He swallowed his chagrin, for he could but confess that it was sugar-coated. Madame had at last considered his case, and had labeled him dangerous. Somehow a man always likes to be properly valued. It re-establishes his good opinion of himself.

Well, well; however affectionate Madame might be, she could scarcely carry it beyond the threshold of his chamber, and he was determined to retire at an early hour. But he had many things to learn.

Fitzgerald was abandoned to the countess, who had still much color to regain. From time to time the Englishman looked over his shoulder to see what was going on between Madame and his friend, and so missed half of what the countess said.

"Come," thought Maurice, "it is time I made a play."

The blackberries were ripe along the stone walls which surrounded the chateau. Maurice wandered here and there, plucking what fruit he could find. Now and then he would offer a branch to Madame. At length, as though by previous arrangement with Madame, the countess led Fitzgerald around to the other side of the chateau, so that Madame and Maurice were alone. Immediately the smile, which had rested on her lips, vanished.

Her companion was gazing mountainward, and cogitating. How fared those in Bleiberg?

"What a beautiful world it is!" said a low, soft voice close to his ear.

Maurice resumed his berry picking.

"What exquisite tints in the skies!" went on the voice; "what matchless color in the forests!"

Maurice plucked a berry, ate it, and smacked his lips. It was a good berry.

"But what a terrible thing it would be if one should die suddenly, or be thrown into a windowless dungeon, shut out from all these splendid reaches?"

Maurice plucked another berry, but he did not eat it. Instinctively he turned--and met a pair of eyes as hard and cold and gray as new steel.

"That," said he, "sounds like a threat."

"And if it were, Monsieur, and if it were?"

"If it were, I should say that you had discovered that I know too much.

I suspected from the first; the picture merely confirmed my suspicions.

I see now that it was thoughtless in me not to have told my friend; but it is not too late."

"And why, I ask, have I not suppressed you before this?"

"Till to-day, Madame, you had not given me your particular consideration." Then, as if the conversation was not interesting him, he returned to the berries. "There's a fine one there. It's a little high; but then!" He tiptoed, drew the branch from the wall, and s.n.a.t.c.hed the luscious fruit. "Ah!"

"Monsieur, attend to me; the berries can wait."

"Madame, the life of a good blackberry is short."

"To begin with, you say that I did not show you consideration. Few princes have been shown like consideration."

"I was wrong. It is not every man that has a countess--and a pretty one, too!--thrown at his head."

Madame was temporarily silenced by this retort; it upset her calculations. She scrutinized the clean, smooth face, and she saw lines which had hitherto escaped her notice. She was at last convinced that she had to contend with a man, a man who had dealt with both men and women. How deep was he? Could honors, such as she could give, and money plumb the depths?... He was an American. She smiled the smile of duplicity.

"Monsieur," she said, "do you lack wealth?"