The Princess Dehra. Scott John Reed
words were addressed to Epping, and the answer was prompt and to the point:
“Your proposition begs the situation,” he said; “it needs the Laws to prove it.”
The Duke laughed. “No, it doesn’t. I will prove it out of the mouth of the Archduke Armand himself.” He held up the paper. “Here is a copy of the Great Henry’s decree reinstating Hugo. I made it months ago, being, it would seem, wiser than I knew. With the first portion the Council is already familiar, Frederick having quoted it to you the day the Archduke Armand was presented; but of the last sentence, unfortunately, he made no mention; and it is that which governs now. His Royal Highness is fully acquainted with the original, and if my copy is not accurate he can make denial – nay, further, if he deny, I will accept whatever correction he may offer… Surely, cousin, that is fair and honest – shall I read it – or will you?”
Armand smiled indifferently. “You can do it with much better effect,” he answered.
“Will you have all of it or only the last sentence?”
“All of it.”
Lotzen smiled maliciously. “The sweet as well as the bitter, cousin mine, with the bitter at the end.” Then he tossed the paper across to Epping. “Will Your Excellency read it?” he said.
With a glance at the Archduke for permission, the Count complied:
“‘Section one hundred twenty-fifth – Whereas, we have learned that our second son, Hugo, hath served with much honour in the American Army under General Washington, and hath, since the termination of hostilities, married into a good family in one of the said American States, called Maryland, and hath assumed residence therein; and whereas he hath never sought aid from us nor sued for pardon; Now, therefore, in recognition of his valour and self reliance and true Dalberg independence, it is decreed, that Section one hundred twenty-one, supra, be annulled; and Hugo’s name is hereby reinstated on the Family Roll in its proper place, the same as though never stricken therefrom. And it is further decreed that the marriage of Hugo and the marriage of his descendants shall be deemed lawful, the same as though their respective consorts were of the Blood Royal. The titles conferred upon Hugo shall, however, remain in abeyance until claimed anew by him or by his right heir male – ’”
“And now, my lords, attend,” Lotzen cut in. “Your pardon, Monsieur le Comte, pray proceed.”
The old man paused a moment in rebuke, then resumed:
“‘Nor shall the latter be eligible to the Crown unless hereinafter specifically decreed so to be – or in event of a vacancy in the royal dignity without such decree having been so made, then, by special Act of the House of Nobles.
The Prime Minister slowly put down the paper, and every one looked at the Archduke – what would be his answer? There was no doubt that Lotzen had scored heavily, so heavily, indeed, that Retz made no effort to restrain his smile.
“Does His Royal Highness deny the correctness of the copy and that the decree is as read?” the Duke asked.
“I have never seen the decree,” said Armand, “and my – pray have the courtesy, sir,” (as Lotzen laughed and shrugged his shoulders) “to wait until I’ve finished – and my only knowledge of it is from hearing it read by the King, the day he offered me my inheritance; but if my recollection be accurate, the decree is as you have it.”
In a flash the situation had become reversed, and it was now Armand against whom the presumption ran; and it was he, and not Ferdinand, who required the Laws to prove his claim.
A heavy silence followed. Then into the stillness cut the Duke’s taunting laugh.
“Exit the American,” he sneered. “Vale the foreign pretender.”
It was, he knew, into Armand’s most vulnerable spot and, like the coup de grâce, he had saved it until last; yet, to his astonishment, it brought only a contemptuous smile and an ignoring stare.
“His Grace of Lotzen seems to have discovered a mare’s nest,” said Armand. “The decree that is required to make me eligible to the Crown and to restore me to my proper place in the Line of Succession was executed by Frederick the Fourth the night before he died.”
And once again came Lotzen’s taunting laugh.
“The night after he died, you mean, cousin,” he exclaimed.
The Prime Minister turned upon him with a frown.
“Your Royal Highness will permit me to suggest,” said he, “the propriety, under the circumstances, of neither you nor the Archduke addressing each other.”
And Lotzen, discerning that the Council was of the same mind, nodded easily.
“I cry pardon,” he replied. “Your Excellency is quite right – but you will understand, I deny the existence of this suspiciously timely decree. As to it, at least, there is no presumption of execution – the Laws alone can prove it.”
The Count turned to the Archduke. “Your Highness has seen the decree?” he asked.
“I have not.”
“Did the King tell you it was executed?”
“He did not – but he told another.”
“And that other – ?”
“Is the Princess Royal,” said the Archduke.
The Count paused a moment to give the situation emphasis – and Lotzen, chagrin and anger consuming him, yet smiling and unabashed, drew out a cigarette and carefully lit it.
“Do you think Her Highness would honor the Council with the facts?” Epping asked.
“I will acquaint her with your desires,” said Armand.
V
THE COMPROMISE
The Princess’ suite was across the corridor from the King’s, and in a moment the Archduke was with her.
“Your Majesty!” she cried, and curtsied.
He raised her quickly. “Not yet, sweetheart,” he said, “not yet – and, may be, never.”
She stepped back and regarded him in puzzled surprise.
“You are jesting, dear,” she said; “surely, you are jesting!”
He shook his head and went toward her.
“But the decree – the decree!” she exclaimed, again stepping back.
“The Laws have disappeared,” he said, “the box is empty and the Book cannot be found.”
In bewildered amazement she let him lead her to a chair, and listened, frowning and impatient, to his story. Only once did she interrupt – when he mentioned the Duke’s unexpected entrance – then she struck her hand sharply on the table at her side. “Lotzen! Oh, Lotzen!” she cried, and with such threatening vehemence that Armand looked at her in sudden wonder.
At the end, she sprang up.
“Come!” she commanded. “Come; take me to the Council – I can at least assure they won’t make Lotzen king,” and seizing his hand she made for the door.
He slipped his arm around her waist and detained her.
“Are you sure, Dehra, you ought to mix in this unfortunate squabble?” he asked. “Is it – ”
She turned upon him sharply. “Squabble! Do you call a contest for Valeria’s Throne a squabble?” – then suddenly she smiled – that sweet, adorable smile she ever had for him. “Be very careful, sir, or I shall tumble both you and Lotzen aside, and take the Throne myself… Now, will you escort me!”
He looked at her thoughtfully, then smiled and patted her cheek.
“Come, Your Majesty,” he said; “come, and claim your Crown; it’s yours by right, and I shall be the first