William Le Queux - The Great Court Scandal

“But I want to know,” she urged. “I must know. Tell me the truth. If you are my friend you will at least be frank with me when I command.”

“If you command, Princess, then I must obey, even with reluctance,” was his response. “Yes. I have heard some gossip. It is spoken openly in Court by the dames du palais , and is now being whispered among the people.”

She held her breath. Fortunately, it was dark, for she knew that her countenance had gone crimson.

“Well?” she asked. “And what do they say of me?”

“They, unfortunately, couple your Highness’s name with that of Count Leitolf, the chief of the private cabinet of his Majesty,” was his low answer.

“Yes,” she said in a toneless voice. “And what more?”

“They say that Major Scheel, attaché at the Embassy in Paris, recognised you driving with the Count in the Avenue de l’Opéra, when you were supposed to be at Aix-les-Bains with the little Princess Ignatia.”

“Yes. Go on.”

“They say, too, that he follows you everywhere – and that your maid Henriette helps you to leave the palace in secret to meet him.”

She heard his words, and her white lips trembled.

“They also declare,” he went on in a low voice, “that your love of the country is only because you are able to meet him without any one knowing, that your journey here to Vienna is on account of him – that he has followed you here.”

She nodded, without uttering a word.

“The Count has, no doubt, followed your Highness, indiscreetly if I may say so, for I recognised him last night dining alone at Breying’s.”

“He did not see you?” she exclaimed anxiously.

“No. I took good care not to be seen. I had no desire that my journey here should be known, or I should be suspected. I return to-night at midnight.”

“And to be frank, Steinbach, you believe that all this has reached my husband’s ears?” she whispered in a hard, strained voice.

“All that is detrimental to your Highness reaches the Crown Prince,” was his reply to the breathless woman, “and certainly not without embellishments. That is why I implore of you to be circumspect – why I am here to tell you of the plot to disgrace you in the people’s eyes.”

“But the people themselves are now speaking of – of the Count?” she said in a low, uncertain voice, quite changed from her previous musical tones when first they met.

“A scandal – and especially a Court one – very soon spreads among the people. The royal servants gossip outside the palace, and moreover your Highness’s many enemies are only too delighted to assist in spreading such reports. It gives motive for the Crown Prince’s estrangement.”

Her head was bent, her hands were trembling. The iron had entered her soul.

The people – the people whom she so dearly loved, and who had waved their hands and shouted those glad welcomes to her as she drove out – were now whispering of Leitolf.

She bit her lip, and her countenance went pale as death as the truth arose before her in all its hideous ghastliness.

Even the man at her side, the humble man who had stood by her as her friend, knew that Leitolf was there – in Vienna – to be near her. Even Steinbach could have no further respect for her as a woman – only respect because she was one day to be his sovereign.

Her hands were clenched; she held her breath, and shivered as the chill wind cut through her. She longed to be back in her father’s palace; to be alone in her room to think.

“And nothing more?” she asked in that same blank voice which now caused her companion to wonder.

“Only that they say evil of you that is not worth repeating,” was his brief answer.

She sighed again, and then when she had sufficiently recovered from the effect of his words, she whispered in a low voice, —

“I – I can only thank you, Steinbach, for giving me this warning. Forgive me if – if I am somewhat upset by it – but I am a woman – and perhaps it is only natural. Trust me to say nothing. Leave Vienna to-night and return home. If you ever wish to communicate with me write guardedly, making an appointment, and address your letter to Madame Emond at the Poste Restante in Brussels. You will recollect the name?”

“Most certainly I shall, your Highness. I can only ask pardon for speaking so openly. But it was at your request.”

“Do not let us mention it further,” she urged, her white lips again compressed. “Leave me now. It is best that I should walk down yonder to the Parkring alone.”

He halted, and bowing low, his hat in his hand, said, —

“I would ask your Imperial Highness to still consider me your humble servant to command in any way whatsoever, and to believe that I am ever ready to serve you and to repay the great debt of gratitude I owe to you.”

And, bending, he took her gloved hand and raised it to his lips in obeisance to the princess who was to be his queen.

“Adieu, Steinbach,” she said in a broken voice. “And for the service you have rendered me to-night I can only return you the thanks of an unhappy woman.”

Then she turned from him quickly, and hurried down the path to the park entrance, where shone a single gas lamp, leaving him standing alone, bowing in silence.

He watched her graceful figure out of sight, then sighed, and turned away in the opposite direction.

A few seconds later the tall, dark figure of a man emerged noiselessly from the deep shadow of the tree where, unobserved, he had crept up and stood concealed. The stranger glanced quickly up and down at the two receding figures, and then at a leisurely pace strode in the direction the Princess had taken.

When at last she had turned and was out of sight he halted, took a cigarette from a silver case, lit it after some difficulty in the tearing wind, and muttered some words which, though inaudible, were sufficiently triumphant in tone to show that he was well pleased at his ingenious piece of espionage.

As the twilight fell on the following afternoon a fiacre drew up before the Hotel Imperial, one of the best and most select hotels in the Kartner Ring, in Vienna, and from it descended a lady attired in the deep mourning of a widow.

Of the gold-laced concierge she inquired for Count Carl Leitolf, and was at once shown into the lift and conducted to a private sitting-room on the second floor, where a young, fair-moustached, good-looking man, with well-cut, regular features and dark brown eyes, rose quickly as the door opened and the waiter announced her.

The moment the door had closed and they were alone he took his visitor’s hand and raised it reverently to his lips, bowing low, with the exquisite grace of the born courtier.

In an instant she drew it from him and threw back her veil, revealing her pale, beautiful face – the face of her Imperial Highness the Crown Princess Claire.

“Highness!” the man exclaimed, glancing anxiously at the door to reassure himself that it was closed, “I had your note this morning, but – but are you not running too great a risk by coming here? I could not reply, fearing that my letter might fall into other hands; otherwise I would on no account have allowed you to come. You may have been followed. There are, as you know, spies everywhere.”

“I have come, Carl, because I wish to speak to you,” she said, looking unflinchingly into his handsome face. “I wish to know by what right you have followed me here – to Vienna?”

He drew back in surprise, for her attitude was entirely unexpected.

“I came here upon my own private affairs,” he answered.

“That is not the truth,” she declared in quick resentment. “You are here because you believed that you might meet me at the reception after the State dinner to-night. You applied for a card for it in order that you could see me – and this, after what passed between us the other day! Do you consider that you are treating me fairly? Cannot you see that your constant attentions are compromising me and causing people to talk?”