The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson – Swanston Edition. Volume 7. Robert Louis Stevenson
said Seraphina.
“It may then be held as read,” concluded the Baron. “Will your Highness sign?”
The Princess did so; Gondremark, Eisenthal, and one of the non-combatants followed suit; and the paper was then passed across the table to the librarian. He proceeded leisurely to read.
“We have no time to spare, Herr Doctor,” cried the Baron brutally. “If you do not choose to sign on the authority of your sovereign, pass it on. Or you may leave the table,” he added, his temper ripping out.
“I decline your invitation, Herr von Gondremark; and my sovereign, as I continue to observe with regret, is still absent from the board,” replied the Doctor calmly; and he resumed the perusal of the paper, the rest chafing and exchanging glances. “Madam and gentlemen,” he said at last, “what I hold in my hand is simply a declaration of war.”
“Simply,” said Seraphina, flashing defiance.
“The sovereign of this country is under the same roof with us,” continued Gotthold, “and I insist he shall be summoned. It is needless to adduce my reasons; you are all ashamed at heart of this projected treachery.”
The council waved like a sea. There were various outcries.
“You insult the Princess,” thundered Gondremark.
“I maintain my protest,” replied Gotthold.
At the height of this confusion the door was thrown open; an usher announced, “Gentlemen, the Prince!” and Otto, with his most excellent bearing, entered the apartment. It was like oil upon the troubled waters; every one settled instantly into his place, and Greisengesang, to give himself a countenance, became absorbed in the arrangement of his papers; but in their eagerness to dissemble one and all neglected to rise.
“Gentlemen,” said the Prince, pausing.
They all got to their feet in a moment; and this reproof still further demoralised the weaker brethren.
The Prince moved slowly towards the lower end of the table; then he paused again, and, fixing his eye on Greisengesang, “How comes it, Herr Cancellarius,” he said, “that I have received no notice of the change of hour?”
“Your Highness,” replied the Chancellor, “her Highness the Princess …” and there paused.
“I understood,” said Seraphina, taking him up, “that you did not purpose to be present.”
Their eyes met for a second, and Seraphina’s fell; but her anger only burned the brighter for that private shame.
“And now, gentlemen,” said Otto, taking his chair, “I pray you to be seated. I have been absent; there are doubtless some arrears; but ere we proceed to business, Herr Grafinski, you will direct four thousand crowns to be sent to me at once. Make a note, if you please,” he added, as the treasurer still stared in wonder.
“Four thousand crowns?” asked Seraphina. “Pray for what?”
“Madam,” returned Otto, smiling, “for my own purposes.”
Gondremark spurred up Grafinski underneath the table.
“If your Highness will indicate the destination …” began the puppet.
“You are not here, sir, to interrogate your Prince,” said Otto.
Grafinski looked for help to his commander; and Gondrermark came to his aid, in suave and measured tones.
“Your Highness may reasonably be surprised,” he said; “and Herr Grafinski, although I am convinced he is clear of the intention of offending, would have perhaps done better to begin with an explanation. The resources of the state are at the present moment entirely swallowed up, or, as we hope to prove, wisely invested. In a month from now, I do not question we shall be able to meet any command your Highness may lay upon us; but at this hour I fear that, even in so small a matter, he must prepare himself for disappointment. Our zeal is no less, although our power may be inadequate.”
“How much, Herr Grafinski, have we in the treasury?” asked Otto.
“Your Highness,” protested the treasurer, “we have immediate need of every crown.”
“I think, sir, you evade me,” flashed the Prince; and then, turning to the side-table, “Mr. Secretary,” he added, “bring me, if you please, the treasury docket.”
Herr Grafinski became deadly pale; the Chancellor, expecting his own turn, was probably engaged in prayer; Gondremark was watching like a ponderous cat. Gotthold, on his part, looked on with wonder at his cousin; he was certainly showing spirit, but what, in such a time of gravity, was all this talk of money? and why should he waste his strength upon a personal issue?
“I find,” said Otto, with his finger on the docket, “that we have 20,000 crowns in case.”
“That is exact, your Highness,” replied the Baron. “But our liabilities, all of which are happily not liquid, amount to a far larger sum; and at the present point of time it would be morally impossible to divert a single florin. Essentially, the case is empty. We have, already presented, a large note for material of war.”
“Material of war?” exclaimed Otto, with an excellent assumption of surprise. “But if my memory serves me right, we settled these accounts in January.”
“There have been further orders,” the Baron explained. “A new park of artillery has been completed; five hundred stand of arms, seven hundred baggage mules – the details are in a special memorandum. – Mr. Secretary Holtz, the memorandum, if you please.”
“One would think, gentlemen, that we were going to war,” said Otto.
“We are,” said Seraphina.
“War!” cried the Prince. “And, gentlemen, with whom? The peace of Grünewald has endured for centuries. What aggression, what insult, have we suffered?”
“Here, your Highness,” said Gotthold, “is the ultimatum. It was in the very article of signature, when your Highness so opportunely entered.”
Otto laid the paper before him; as he read, his fingers played tattoo upon the table. “Was it proposed,” he inquired, “to send this paper forth without a knowledge of my pleasure?”
One of the non-combatants, eager to trim, volunteered an answer. “The Herr Doctor von Hohenstockwitz had just entered his dissent,” he added.
“Give me the rest of this correspondence,” said the Prince. It was handed to him, and he read it patiently from end to end, while the councillors sat foolishly enough looking before them on the table. The secretaries, in the background, were exchanging glances of delight; a row at the council was for them a rare and welcome feature.
“Gentlemen,” said Otto, when he had finished, “I have read with pain. This claim upon Obermünsterol is palpably unjust; it has not a tincture, not a show, of justice. There is not in all this ground enough for after-dinner talk, and you propose to force it as a casus belli.”
“Certainly, your Highness,” returned Gondremark, too wise to defend the indefensible, “the claim on Obermünsterol is simply a pretext.”
“It is well,” said the Prince. “Herr Cancellarius, take your pen. ‘The council,’” he began to dictate – “I withhold all notice of my intervention,” he said, in parenthesis, and addressing himself more directly to his wife; “and I say nothing of the strange suppression by which this business has been smuggled past my knowledge. I am content to be in time – ’The council,’” he resumed, “’on a further examination of the facts, and enlightened by the note in the last despatch from Gerolstein, have the pleasure to announce that they are entirely at one, both as to fact and sentiment, with the Grand-Ducal Court of Gerolstein.’ You have it? Upon these lines, sir, you will draw up the despatch.”
“If your Highness will allow me,” said the Baron, “your Highness is so imperfectly acquainted with the internal history of this correspondence, that any interference will be merely hurtful. Such a paper as your Highness