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<h2> CHAPTER V. AN AUDIENCE OF THE KING </h2>
<p>Having come thus far in the story that I set out to tell, I have half a
mind to lay down my pen, and leave untold how from the moment that Mr.
Rassendyll came again to Zenda a fury of chance seemed to catch us all in
a whirlwind, carrying us whither we would not, and ever driving us onwards
to fresh enterprises, breathing into us a recklessness that stood at no
obstacle, and a devotion to the queen and to the man she loved that swept
away all other feeling. The ancients held there to be a fate which would
have its fill, though women wept and men died, and none could tell whose
was the guilt nor who fell innocent. Thus did they blindly wrong God's
providence. Yet, save that we are taught to believe that all is ruled, we
are as blind as they, and are still left wondering why all that is true
and generous and love's own fruit must turn so often to woe and shame,
exacting tears and blood. For myself I would leave the thing untold, lest
a word of it should seem to stain her whom I serve; it is by her own
command I write, that all may one day, in time's fullness, be truly known,
and those condemn who are without sin, while they pity whose own hearts
have fought the equal fight. So much for her and him; for us less needs be
said. It was not ours to weigh her actions; we served her; him we had
served. She was our queen; we bore Heaven a grudge that he was not our
king. The worst of what befell was not of our own planning, no, nor of our
hoping. It came a thunderbolt from the hand of Rupert, flung carelessly
between a curse and a laugh; its coming entangled us more tightly in the
net of circumstances. Then there arose in us that strange and overpowering
desire of which I must tell later, filling us with a zeal to accomplish
our purpose, and to force Mr. Rassendyll himself into the way we chose.
Led by this star, we pressed on through the darkness, until at length the
deeper darkness fell that stayed our steps. We also stand for judgment,
even as she and he. So I will write; but I will write plainly and briefly,
setting down what I must, and no more, yet seeking to give truly the
picture of that time, and to preserve as long as may be the portrait of
the man whose like I have not known. Yet the fear is always upon me that,
failing to show him as he was, I may fail also in gaining an understanding
of how he wrought on us, one and all, till his cause became in all things
the right, and to seat him where he should be our highest duty and our
nearest wish. For he said little, and that straight to the purpose; no
high-flown words of his live in my memory. And he asked nothing for
himself. Yet his speech and his eyes went straight to men's hearts and
women's, so that they held their lives in an eager attendance on his
bidding. Do I rave? Then Sapt was a raver too, for Sapt was foremost in
the business.</p>
<p>At ten minutes to eight o'clock, young Bernenstein, very admirably and
smartly accoutred, took his stand outside the main entrance of the castle.
He wore a confident air that became almost a swagger as he strolled to and
fro past the motionless sentries. He had not long to wait. On the stroke
of eight a gentleman, well-horsed but entirely unattended, rode up the
carriage drive. Bernenstein, crying "Ah, it is the count!" ran to meet
him. Rischenheim dismounted, holding out his hand to the young officer.</p>
<p>"My dear Bernenstein!" said he, for they were acquainted with one another.</p>
<p>"You're punctual, my dear Rischenheim, and it's lucky, for the king awaits
you most impatiently."</p>
<p>"I didn't expect to find him up so soon," remarked Rischenheim.</p>
<p>"Up! He's been up these two hours. Indeed we've had the devil of a time of
it. Treat him carefully, my dear Count; he's in one of his troublesome
humors. For example—but I mustn't keep you waiting. Pray follow me."</p>
<p>"No, but pray tell me. Otherwise I might say something unfortunate."</p>
<p>"Well, he woke at six; and when the barber came to trim his beard there
were—imagine it, Count!—no less than seven gray hairs." The
king fell into a passion. "Take it off!" he said. "Take it off. I won't
have a gray beard! Take it off!' Well what would you? A man is free to be
shaved if he chooses, so much more a king. So it's taken off."</p>
<p>"His beard!"</p>
<p>"His beard, my dear Count." Then, after thanking Heaven it was gone, and
declaring he looked ten years younger, he cried, "The Count of
Luzau-Rischenheim breakfasts with me to-day: what is there for breakfast?"
And he had the chef out his of bed and—"But, by heavens, I shall get
into trouble if I stop here chattering. He's waiting most eagerly for you.
Come along." And Bernenstein, passing his arm through the count's, walked
him rapidly into the castle.</p>
<p>The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim was a young man; he was no more versed in
affairs of this kind than Bernenstein, and it cannot be said that he
showed so much aptitude for them. He was decidedly pale this morning; his
manner was uneasy, and his hands trembled. He did not lack courage, but
that rarer virtue, coolness; and the importance—or perhaps the shame—of
his mission upset the balance of his nerves. Hardly noting where he went,
he allowed Bernenstein to lead him quickly and directly towards the room
where Rudolf Rassendyll was, not doubting that he was being conducted to
the king's presence.</p>
<p>"Breakfast is ordered for nine," said Bernenstein, "but he wants to see
you before. He has something important to say; and you perhaps have the
same?"</p>
<p>"I? Oh, no. A small matter; but—er—of a private nature."</p>
<p>"Quite so, quite so. Oh, I don't ask any questions, my dear Count."</p>
<p>"Shall I find the king alone?" asked Rischenheim nervously.</p>
<p>"I don't think you'll find anybody with him; no, nobody, I think,"
answered Bernenstein, with a grave and reassuring air.</p>
<p>They arrived now at the door. Here Bernenstein paused.</p>
<p>"I am ordered to wait outside till his Majesty summons me," he said in a
low voice, as though he feared that the irritable king would hear him.
"I'll open the door and announce you. Pray keep him in a good temper, for
all our sakes." And he flung the door open, saying, "Sire, the Count of
Luzau-Rischenheim has the honor to wait on your Majesty." With this he
shut the door promptly, and stood against it. Nor did he move, save once,
and then only to take out his revolver and carefully inspect it.</p>
<p>The count advanced, bowing low, and striving to conceal a visible
agitation. He saw the king in his arm-chair; the king wore a suit of brown
tweeds (none the better for being crushed into a bundle the night before);
his face was in deep shadow, but Rischenheim perceived that the beard was
indeed gone. The king held out his hand to Rischenheim, and motioned him
to sit in a chair just opposite to him and within a foot of the
window-curtains.</p>
<p>"I'm delighted to see you, my lord," said the king.</p>
<p>Rischenheim looked up. Rudolf's voice had once been so like the king's
that no man could tell the difference, but in the last year or two the
king's had grown weaker, and Rischenheim seemed to be struck by the vigor
of the tones in which he was addressed. As he looked up, there was a
slight movement in the curtains by him; it died away when the count gave
no further signs of suspicion, but Rudolf had noticed his surprise: the
voice, when it next spoke, was subdued.</p>
<p>"Most delighted," pursued Mr. Rassendyll. "For I am pestered beyond
endurance about those dogs. I can't get the coats right, I've tried
everything, but they won't come as I wish. Now, yours are magnificent."</p>
<p>"You are very good, sire. But I ventured to ask an audience in order to—"</p>
<p>"Positively you must tell me about the dogs. And before Sapt comes, for I
want nobody to hear but myself."</p>
<p>"Your Majesty expects Colonel Sapt?"</p>
<p>"In about twenty minutes," said the king, with a glance at the clock on
the mantelpiece.</p>
<p>At this Rischenheim became all on fire to get his errand done before Sapt
appeared.</p>
<p>"The coats of your dogs," pursued the king, "grow so beautifully—"</p>
<p>"A thousand pardons, sire, but—"</p>
<p>"Long and silky, that I despair of—"</p>
<p>"I have a most urgent and important matter," persisted Rischenheim in
agony.</p>
<p>Rudolf threw himself back in his chair with a peevish air. "Well, if you
must, you must. What is this great affair, Count? Let us have it over, and
then you can tell me about the dogs."</p>
<p>Rischenheim looked round the room. There was nobody; the curtains were
still; the king's left hand caressed his beardless chin; the right was
hidden from his visitor by the small table that stood between them.</p>
<p>"Sire, my cousin, the Count of Hentzau, has entrusted me with a message."</p>
<p>Rudolf suddenly assumed a stern air.</p>
<p>"I can hold no communication, directly or indirectly, with the Count of
Hentzau," said he.</p>
<p>"Pardon me, sire, pardon me. A document has come into the count's hands
which is of vital importance to your Majesty."</p>
<p>"The Count of Hentzau, my lord, has incurred my heaviest displeasure."</p>
<p>"Sire, it is in the hopes of atoning for his offences that he has sent me
here to-day. There is a conspiracy against your Majesty's honor."</p>
<p>"By whom, my lord?" asked Rudolf, in cold and doubting tones.</p>
<p>"By those who are very near your Majesty's person and very high in your
Majesty's love."</p>
<p>"Name them."</p>
<p>"Sire, I dare not. You would not believe me. But your Majesty will believe
written evidence."</p>
<p>"Show it me, and quickly. We may be interrupted."</p>
<p>"Sire, I have a copy—"</p>
<p>"Oh, a copy, my lord?" sneered Rudolf.</p>
<p>"My cousin has the original, and will forward it at your Majesty's
command. A copy of a letter of her Majesty's—"</p>
<p>"Of the queen's?"</p>
<p>"Yes, sire. It is addressed to—" Rischenheim paused.</p>
<p>"Well, my lord, to whom?"</p>
<p>"To a Mr. Rudolf Rassendyll."</p>
<p>Now Rudolf played his part well. He did not feign indifference, but
allowed his voice to tremble with emotion as he stretched out his hand and
said in a hoarse whisper, "Give it me, give it me."</p>
<p>Rischenheim's eyes sparkled. His shot had told: the king's attention was
his; the coats of the dogs were forgotten. Plainly he had stirred the
suspicions and jealousy of the king.</p>
<p>"My cousin," he continued, "conceives it his duty to lay the letter before
your Majesty. He obtained it—"</p>
<p>"A curse on how he got it! Give it me!"</p>
<p>Rischenheim unbuttoned his coat, then his waistcoat. The head of a
revolver showed in a belt round his waist. He undid the flap of a pocket
in the lining of his waistcoat, and he began to draw out a sheet of paper.</p>
<p>But Rudolf, great as his powers of self-control were, was but human. When
he saw the paper, he leant forward, half rising from his chair. As a
result, his face came beyond the shadow of the curtain, and the full
morning light beat on it. As Rischenheim took the paper out, he looked up.
He saw the face that glared so eagerly at him; his eyes met Rassendyll's:
a sudden suspicion seized him, for the face, though the king's face in
every feature, bore a stern resolution and witnessed a vigor that were not
the king's. In that instant the truth, or a hint of it, flashed across his
mind. He gave a half-articulate cry; in one hand he crumpled up the paper,
the other flew to his revolver. But he was too late. Rudolf's left hand
encircled his hand and the paper in an iron grip; Rudolf's revolver was on
his temple; and an arm was stretched out from behind the curtain, holding
another barrel full before his eyes, while a dry voice said, "You'd best
take it quietly." Then Sapt stepped out.</p>
<p>Rischenheim had no words to meet the sudden transformation of the
interview. He seemed to be able to do nothing but stare at Rudolf
Rassendyll. Sapt wasted no time. He snatched the count's revolver and
stowed it in his own pocket.</p>
<p>"Now take the paper," said he to Rudolf, and his barrel held Rischenheim
motionless while Rudolf wrenched the precious document from his fingers.
"Look if it's the right one. No, don't read it through; just look. Is it
right? That's good. Now put your revolver to his head again. I'm going to
search him. Stand up, sir."</p>
<p>They compelled the count to stand up, and Sapt subjected him to a search
that made the concealment of another copy, or of any other document,
impossible. Then they let him sit down again. His eyes seemed fascinated
by Rudolf Rassendyll.</p>
<p>"Yet you've seen me before, I think," smiled Rudolf. "I seem to remember
you as a boy in Strelsau when I was there. Now tell us, sir, where did you
leave this cousin of yours?" For the plan was to find out from Rischenheim
where Rupert was, and to set off in pursuit of Rupert as soon as they had
disposed of Rischenheim.</p>
<p>But even as Rudolf spoke there was a violent knock at the door. Rudolf
sprang to open it. Sapt and his revolver kept their places. Bernenstein
was on the threshold, open-mouthed.</p>
<p>"The king's servant has just gone by. He's looking for Colonel Sapt. The
King has been walking in the drive, and learnt from a sentry of
Rischenheim's arrival. I told the man that you had taken the count for a
stroll round the castle, and I did not know where you were. He says that
the king may come himself at any moment."</p>
<p>Sapt considered for one short instant; then he was back by the prisoner's
side.</p>
<p>"We must talk again later on," he said, in low quick tones. "Now you're
going to breakfast with the king. I shall be there, and Bernenstein.
Remember, not a word of your errand, not a word of this gentleman! At a
word, a sign, a hint, a gesture, a motion, as God lives, I'll put a bullet
through your head, and a thousand kings sha'n't stop me. Rudolf, get
behind the curtain. If there's an alarm you must jump through the window
into the moat and swim for it."</p>
<p>"All right," said Rudolf Rassendyll. "I can read my letter there."</p>
<p>"Burn it, you fool."</p>
<p>"When I've read it I'll eat it, if you like, but not before."</p>
<p>Bernenstein looked in again. "Quick, quick! The man will be back," he
whispered.</p>
<p>"Bernenstein, did you hear what I said to the count?"</p>
<p>"Yes, I heard."</p>
<p>"Then you know your part. Now, gentlemen, to the king."</p>
<p>"Well," said an angry voice outside, "I wondered how long I was to be kept
waiting."</p>
<p>Rudolf Rassendyll skipped behind the curtain. Sapt's revolver slipped into
a handy pocket. Rischenheim stood with arms dangling by his side and his
waistcoat half unbuttoned. Young Bernenstein was bowing low on the
threshold, and protesting that the king's servant had but just gone, and
that they were on the point of waiting on his Majesty. Then the king
walked in, pale and full-bearded.</p>
<p>"Ah, Count," said he, "I'm glad to see you. If they had told me you were
here, you shouldn't have waited a minute. You're very dark in here, Sapt.
Why don't you draw back the curtains?" and the king moved towards the
curtain behind which Rudolf was.</p>
<p>"Allow me, sire," cried Sapt, darting past him and laying a hand on the
curtain.</p>
<p>A malicious gleam of pleasure shot into Rischenheim's eyes. "In truth,
sire," continued the constable, his hand on the curtain, "we were so
interested in what the count was saying about his dogs—"</p>
<p>"By heaven, I forgot!" cried the king. "Yes, yes, the dogs. Now tell me,
Count—"</p>
<p>"Your pardon, sire," put in young Bernenstein, "but breakfast waits."</p>
<p>"Yes, yes. Well, then, we'll have them together—breakfast and the
dogs. Come along, Count." The king passed his arm through Rischenheim's,
adding to Bernenstein, "Lead the way, Lieutenant; and you, Colonel, come
with us."</p>
<p>They went out. Sapt stopped and locked the door behind him. "Why do you
lock the door, Colonel?" asked the king.</p>
<p>"There are some papers in my drawer there, sire."</p>
<p>"But why not lock the drawer?</p>
<p>"I have lost the key, sire, like the fool I am," said the colonel.</p>
<p>The Count of Luzau-Rischenheim did not make a very good breakfast. He sat
opposite to the king. Colonel Sapt placed himself at the back of the
king's chair, and Rischenheim saw the muzzle of a revolver resting on the
top of the chair just behind his Majesty's right ear. Bernenstein stood in
soldierly rigidity by the door; Rischenheim looked round at him once and
met a most significant gaze.</p>
<p>"You're eating nothing," said the king. "I hope you're not indisposed?"</p>
<p>"I am a little upset, sire," stammered Rischenheim, and truly enough.</p>
<p>"Well, tell me about the dogs—while I eat, for I'm hungry."</p>
<p>Rischenheim began to disclose his secret. His statement was decidedly
wanting in clearness. The king grew impatient.</p>
<p>"I don't understand," said he testily, and he pushed his chair back so
quickly that Sapt skipped away, and hid the revolver behind his back.</p>
<p>"Sire—" cried Rischenheim, half rising. A cough from Lieutenant von
Bernenstein interrupted him.</p>
<p>"Tell it me all over again," said the king. Rischenheim did as he was bid.</p>
<p>"Ah, I understand a little better now. Do you see, Sapt?" and he turned
his head round towards the constable. Sapt had just time to whisk the
revolver away. The count lent forward towards the king. Lieutenant von
Bernenstein coughed. The count sank back again.</p>
<p>"Perfectly, sire," said Colonel Sapt. "I understand all the count wishes
to convey to your Majesty."</p>
<p>"Well, I understand about half," said the king with a laugh. "But perhaps
that'll be enough."</p>
<p>"I think quite enough, sire," answered Sapt with a smile. The important
matter of the dogs being thus disposed of, the king recollected that the
count had asked for an audience on a matter of business.</p>
<p>"Now, what did you wish to say to me?" he asked, with a weary air. The
dogs had been more interesting.</p>
<p>Rischenheim looked at Sapt. The revolver was in its place; Bernenstein
coughed again. Yet he saw a chance.</p>
<p>"Your pardon, sire," said he, "but we are not alone."</p>
<p>The king lifted his eyebrows.</p>
<p>"Is the business so private?" he asked.</p>
<p>"I should prefer to tell it to your Majesty alone," pleaded the count.</p>
<p>Now Sapt was resolved not to leave Rischenheim alone with the king, for,
although the count, being robbed of his evidence could do little harm
concerning the letter, he would doubtless tell the king that Rudolf
Rassendyll was in the castle. He leant now over the king's shoulder, and
said with a sneer:</p>
<p>"Messages from Rupert of Hentzau are too exalted matters for my poor ears,
it seems."</p>
<p>The king flushed red.</p>
<p>"Is that your business, my lord?" he asked Rischenheim sternly.</p>
<p>"Your Majesty does not know what my cousin—"</p>
<p>"It is the old plea?" interrupted the king. "He wants to come back? Is
that all, or is there anything else?"</p>
<p>A moment's silence followed the king's words. Sapt looked full at
Rischenheim, and smiled as he slightly raised his right hand and showed
the revolver. Bernenstein coughed twice. Rischenheim sat twisting his
fingers. He understood that, cost what it might, they would not let him
declare his errand to the king or betray Mr. Rassendyll's presence. He
cleared his throat and opened his mouth as if to speak, but still he
remained silent.</p>
<p>"Well, my lord, is it the old story or something new," asked the king
impatiently.</p>
<p>Again Rischenheim sat silent.</p>
<p>"Are you dumb, my lord?" cried the king most impatiently.</p>
<p>"It—it is only what you call the old story, sire."</p>
<p>"Then let me say that you have treated me very badly in obtaining an
audience of me for any such purpose," said the king. "You knew my
decision, and your cousin knows it." Thus speaking, the king rose; Sapt's
revolver slid into his pocket; but Lieutenant von Bernenstein drew his
sword and stood at the salute; he also coughed.</p>
<p>"My dear Rischenheim," pursued the king more kindly, "I can allow for your
natural affection. But, believe me, in this case it misleads you. Do me
the favor not to open this subject again to me."</p>
<p>Rischenheim, humiliated and angry, could do nothing but bow in
acknowledgment of the king's rebuke.</p>
<p>"Colonel Sapt, see that the count is well entertained. My horse should be
at the door by now. Farewell, Count. Bernenstein, give me your arm."</p>
<p>Bernenstein shot a rapid glance at the constable. Sapt nodded
reassuringly. Bernenstein sheathed his sword and gave his arm to the king.
They passed through the door, and Bernenstein closed it with a backward
push of his hand. But at this moment Rischenheim, goaded to fury and
desperate at the trick played on him—seeing, moreover, that he had
now only one man to deal with—made a sudden rush at the door. He
reached it, and his hand was on the door-knob. But Sapt was upon him, and
Sapt's revolver was at his ear.</p>
<p>In the passage the king stopped.</p>
<p>"What are they doing in there?" he asked, hearing the noise of the quick
movements.</p>
<p>"I don't know, sire," said Bernenstein, and he took a step forward.</p>
<p>"No, stop a minute, Lieutenant; you're pulling me along!"</p>
<p>"A thousand pardons, sire."</p>
<p>"I hear nothing more now." And there was nothing to hear, for the two now
stood dead silent inside the door.</p>
<p>"Nor I, sire. Will your Majesty go on?" And Bernenstein took another step.</p>
<p>"You're determined I shall," said the king with a laugh, and he let the
young officer lead him away.</p>
<p>Inside the room, Rischenheim stood with his back against the door. He was
panting for breath, and his face was flushed and working with excitement.
Opposite to him stood Sapt, revolver in hand.</p>
<p>"Till you get to heaven, my lord," said the constable, "you'll never be
nearer to it than you were in that moment. If you had opened the door, I'd
have shot you through the head."</p>
<p>As he spoke there came a knock at the door.</p>
<p>"Open it," he said brusquely to Rischenheim. With a muttered curse the
count obeyed him. A servant stood outside with a telegram on a salver.</p>
<p>"Take it," whispered Sapt, and Rischenheim put out his hand.</p>
<p>"Your pardon, my lord, but this has arrived for you," said the man
respectfully.</p>
<p>"Take it," whispered Sapt again.</p>
<p>"Give it me," muttered Rischenheim confusedly; and he took the envelope.</p>
<p>The servant bowed and shut the door.</p>
<p>"Open it," commanded Sapt.</p>
<p>"God's curse on you!" cried Rischenheim in a voice that choked with
passion.</p>
<p>"Eh? Oh, you can have no secrets from so good a friend as I am, my lord.
Be quick and open it."</p>
<p>The count began to open it.</p>
<p>"If you tear it up, or crumple it, I'll shoot you," said Sapt quietly.
"You know you can trust my word. Now read it."</p>
<p>"By God, I won't read it."</p>
<p>"Read it, I tell you, or say your prayers."</p>
<p>The muzzle was within a foot of his head. He unfolded the telegram. Then
he looked at Sapt. "Read," said the constable.</p>
<p>"I don't understand what it means," grumbled Rischenheim.</p>
<p>"Possibly I may be able to help you."</p>
<p>"It's nothing but—"</p>
<p>"Read, my lord, read!"</p>
<p>Then he read, and this was the telegram: "Holf, 19 Konigstrasse."</p>
<p>"A thousand thanks, my lord. And—the place it's despatched from?"</p>
<p>"Strelsau."</p>
<p>"Just turn it so that I can see. Oh, I don't doubt you, but seeing is
believing. Ah, thanks. It's as you say. You're puzzled what it means,
Count?"</p>
<p>"I don't know at all what it means!"</p>
<p>"How strange! Because I can guess so well."</p>
<p>"You are very acute, sir."</p>
<p>"It seems to me a simple thing to guess, my lord."</p>
<p>"And pray," said Rischenheim, endeavoring to assume an easy and sarcastic
air, "what does your wisdom tell you that the message means?"</p>
<p>"I think, my lord, that the message is an address."</p>
<p>"An address! I never thought of that. But I know no Holf."</p>
<p>"I don't think it's Holf's address."</p>
<p>"Whose, then?" asked Rischenheim, biting his nail, and looking furtively
at the constable.</p>
<p>"Why," said Sapt, "the present address of Count Rupert of Hentzau."</p>
<p>As he spoke, he fixed his eyes on the eyes of Rischenheim. He gave a
short, sharp laugh, then put his revolver in his pocket and bowed to the
count.</p>
<p>"In truth, you are very convenient, my dear Count," said he.</p>
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