Robert Orange Part 23

"What is to be done?" he cried, beating his head. "Can I forget her interests? Who, better than I, should take the place of her adviser, her Prime Minister? Affairs in Alberia cannot long remain in this violent state. There must be a _denouement_."

I answered him sharply.

"You know quite well that the Archd.u.c.h.ess can never hope for official recognition from any Alberian Ministry--let alone the sovereigns of Europe. An aggressive att.i.tude on her part could at most and at the worst, but lead to these things--a change of dynasty, and the annexation of Alberia by one of the Powers, or its part.i.tion among some of them. We wish Alberia to become another Switzerland--a little Paradise of law-abiding, industrious, rich, independent people!"

"All the same," said he, "my wife may not sell her birth-right.

Such a proceeding is directly opposite to the Will of G.o.d."

"She will be a good claimant--after all this scandal with the Carlists and de Hausee," said I. "I can imagine the welcome extended to her by Bismarck! We have seen enough of this kind of thing in France and Spain."

We talked for an hour. He was as obstinate as a mule and as incoherent as running water. I could grasp him nowhere. It was like groping in a well for a lighted torch. No doubt he had formed in his own mind some obscure, incalculable intrigue, but no reason can guess the plans which are made by an unreasoning person.

"The Archd.u.c.h.ess is rich, young, and handsome," said I; "it would be folly to change her n.o.ble independence for a political slavery fatal to her peace--perhaps her life."

"But duty is above such weak considerations," said he, rolling his eyes. "My wife must remember the nation."

"Do you believe," I rejoined, "that you would get the nation's sanction to the general upset which you propose? You must be mad."

"Nations go mad," said he, smiling; "why not to my advantage, then, as well as yours?"

He refused to tell me how he got into the house, but it must have been by bribery. His sneers and insults were insinuated with such skill that retaliation on the spot was impossible. He made his escape by suddenly extinguis.h.i.+ng the lamp, which left the room in pitch darkness. I felt it would be undignified to stumble about in vain pursuit of a man so active and so _canaille_ in all his methods. He must have been on good terms with the servants, for a considerable time elapsed before they replied to my summons, and when I asked them, each in turn, whether he had been seen, one and all a.s.sumed the greatest astonishment and innocence, but none appeared in any way alarmed, which they must have done had they not been well aware of his presence in the house. I said no more, for, by treating the matter lightly, I made them look--to themselves--dupes and very ridiculous. I remained at the Villa until the Archd.u.c.h.ess and Lady Fitz Rewes departed for Paris. I had a short interview with M. de Hausee in my character of the late Archduke's Agent. Our conversation was purely in connection with H.I.H.'s money matters, although he said with great firmness at the close, "The Archd.u.c.h.ess will never embarra.s.s Alberian affairs. Her taste is not for Courts or politics." I know this is his true conviction, but he is in love, and he measures her by his own unselfishness. He won my heart strangely. In all my experience, he is the one honest man who is not a little idiotic into the bargain.

I deplore the influence of women on such a character, and I would have saved him from that Judith.

Here, for the present, we must leave Mudara's narrative.

CHAPTER XVIII

The Alberian Amba.s.sador, Prince d'Alchingen, considered himself a diplomatist of the Metternich school. He had imagination, sentimentality, and humour: he preferred to attack the strength rather than the weaknesses of mankind, and in all his schemes he counted inconsistency among the pa.s.sions, and panic among the virtues. He still hoped that Orange might be tempted by the prospect of immediate happiness to press for the nullity of the Parflete marriage. Parflete himself was indulging in the most extravagant demonstrations of remorse.

He behaved, as Disraeli said, more like a cunning woman than an able man, and he was an agent of the kind most dangerous to his employers--irregularly scrupulous, fond of boasting of his acquaintance with princes and ministers, so vain that he would rather have had notoriety without glory, than glory without notoriety. He had found the means of ingratiating himself with many persons of high rank, and he knew how to avail himself, with each, of his influence with the others.

Never did an intrigue require more urgently a sort of conduct quite out of the common routine. The Prince, therefore, was much perturbed in mind, and cast about him for a trustworthy a.s.sociate. By an a.s.sociate he meant some one on whom he could test the quality of his deceit--in other words, he liked to try his sword on gossamer and granite before he struck out at commoner materials. Among his friends.h.i.+ps, he prosecuted none with such zeal as that with the Lady Sara de Treverell. As the member of a great Russian house, she was especially attractive to Alberian speculation, but her beauty and cleverness no doubt a.s.sisted the Amba.s.sador's determination to make himself agreeable. The two constantly exchanged letters, and, as the Princess d'Alchingen was an invalid who devoted her hours to spiritual reading, she gladly permitted Lady Sara's influence, realising--with the priceless knowledge of a spirit made reasonable through pain--that the girl was romantic and the Prince incurably old. His flaxen wig heightened the tone of a complexion much ravaged by gout and its antidotes. His nebulous eyes with twitching lids were not improved by the gold-rimmed gla.s.ses which magnified their insignificance. He possessed a striking nose and chin, but, as these features were more characteristic than delightful, they offered his wife no occasions for serious anxiety. Whenever His Excellency required feminine advice, it was considered quite _en regle_ that Lady Sara should be consulted. The Princess herself drove him to St. James's Square on the afternoon following Mr. Disraeli's call. She sent _milles tendresses_ to her _cherie_, and bitterly regretted that she was not well enough to leave the carriage. The Prince kissed her hand, bowed superbly, stood bareheaded in a draught till the brougham drove away (in these matters he had no equal), and, having warned Sara of his intended visit by a special messenger, he had the pleasure of finding the young lady alone. Following her custom, she was appropriately dressed for the occasion in prune-coloured velvet, which suggested dignity, and very beautiful antique Spanish lace, which symbolized the long endurance of things apparently too delicate, subtle, and trifling for the a.s.saults of time. The Prince kissed both of her white hands, and lamented the obstacles which had kept them apart for so many insupportable weeks. He had lived on her letters. They had been, however, few and short.

"What is troubling you, sir?" asked Sara, "you look pale."

"For once in my life I wish to do a foolish thing--_pour encourager les autres_," was his reply. "I intend to meddle with a love-affair."

"Whose love-affair?"

"I will tell you presently. I never venture upon any work trusting alone to my hopes. I am not of those who discover rifts in their harness only on the morning of the battle! I prepare for all contingencies. First, then, let me put you through a little catechism. Do men ever believe evil reports about the women they love?"

"The _posse non peccare_ is not the _non posse peccare_," said Sara quickly.

"Do you mean that they can believe the evil, but, as a rule, they won't?" returned the Prince.

"You translate freely, but you have caught the spirit!"

"Very well. I come to my second question. Is a man better off with a dangerous woman whom he adores than with a good woman who adores _him_?"

"All men who desire love, deserve it," said Sara. "The _means_ to this are always, in a manner, certainties, the _end_ is always problematical.

But those who want love could never be satisfied with mere welfare--never."

"You have a right to direct my opinion," he exclaimed; "where else do I hear such sound good sense? The usual women one meets in our circle are old, ugly, and proud--incapable of conversation with persons of intelligence. My wife," he added smoothly, "makes this complaint about her lady friends. It is very dull and very sad for her, although she is a saint."

No conversation or letter was ever exchanged between Sara and the Prince without some emphatic tribute to the sanct.i.ty, prudence, and charm of the Princess.

"The dear Princess!" murmured Sara.

"And now," said His Excellency, drawing his chair an inch nearer, "I must be serious. You have guessed, of course, that I am thinking about Robert Orange and Mrs. Parflete. I stayed at Brookes's till after twelve last night in hopes of seeing Orange. I was discussing him with Lord Reckage."

"What did Reckage say?"

"Reckage doesn't mind raising a blister, but he won't often tell one what he thinks."

Sara s.h.i.+vered a little and compressed her lips.

"Reckage is fond of Orange," she said, "yet there is a certain jealousy.... Formerly, Orange had need of Reckage, and depended on him; now Reckage needs him and depends on Orange. Could he but know it, Orange is the one creature who could pull him through his difficulties with the Bond of a.s.sociation. A man who has no personal ambition, who desires nothing that any one can give, who fears nothing that any one can do, who lives securely in the presence of G.o.d, is a power we must not under-rate."

She spoke with enthusiasm--the enthusiasm which women seldom, if ever, display for principle on its bare merits. By the deepening colour in her eyes and sudden clearness in her cheeks, the Amba.s.sador felt that he had reached a point where the emotions would have to be considered, even though they might not be counted on.

"I have not time to tell you all the nonsense Reckage said," he answered. "So far as my own judgment can serve for a guide, I believe that he would like to see Orange under the care and discipline of St.

Ignatius."

"He wishes him to become a Jesuit priest? How selfis.h.!.+"

"Such is my impression. He wants so competent a colleague removed from the political sphere. If his words and actions are of a piece, he will certainly work hard to attain this object. He is saying everywhere, 'Orange is a born ecclesiastic. Orange is a mystic. Orange is under the influence of Newman. Orange begins to see that marriage is not for him.'

Such remarks don't help outside the Church. Really, compet.i.tion renders the nicest people detestable."

Lady Sara could not conceal her agitation. But she baffled her companion a little by saying--

"I suppose you want Orange to marry your inopportune Archd.u.c.h.ess?"

"The lady in question is certainly inopportune. I have never called her an Archd.u.c.h.ess. I leave such audacities to her enemies! But tell me what you think of _Mrs. Parflete_?"

"I have never seen her. Pensee Fitz Rewes insists that she is beautiful, cold, determined, and uncommon."

"Generally, there is nothing so fatal to a woman's success in the world as an early connection with a scoundrel. I have odd accounts of Mrs.

Parflete from Madrid--the Marquis of Castrillon and an upstart called Bodava fought a duel about her in Baron Zeuill's gymnasium. A man called William Caffle, who attended to their wounds, has given me fullest particulars of the affair. I don't wish to injure the lady, but on account of eventualities which might arise, I am obliged to look a little about me."

"I understand," said Sara.

"The great point is not to let Parflete take the lead in the settlement.

His present course of action isn't quite decent or consistent. Will Orange do nothing? It is wise to make peace whilst there is some faint appearance of choice left on the subject, so there is no time to be wasted."

"What ought Orange to do?"

"Reckage declares that he will not appeal to Rome. There he is well-advised. But as he has already compromised Mrs. Parflete, surely his present scruples are entirely new and unlooked for? We must both despise him, if he should abandon her now."