CHAPTER SEVEN

The funeral was over, and Eduard, ensconced in a corner of the carriage, was on his way back to the castle. He took off his shako and smoothed his hair. "Well that's finished! Not so bad after all. I'd thought the whole mumbo-jumbo was going to be insufferable. It's not much worse than a military parade. A bit too much gaped at--like the emperor's birthday celebrations.... But the driving out in state was horrible.... Old Oehlke made quite a decent oration; a trifle long, but not over unctuous. Dealt a little curtly with Stefan, who was, after all, a man of feeling. I wonder what his widow's going to do? ... Didn't she really ever have a child? ... Mathilde seems put out; even her attempt to do a little public sobbing did not deceive any one. Is this all one married Heinrich for? None of the joys of love, no children, and then at forty to be the relict of a prince who never came to the throne! And they're so poor! If only I had money to spare I'd dower her for a second marriage.... Papa wishes at all costs to pull the purse-strings tight. He's right. When all's said and done, it's the people who have to pay.... No, I'll not go out of my way to influence him.... Changes are always so obvious; he'd notice at once.... Glad I got him to stay at home this appalling weather. What rain! Last time I saw him ... must have been in March ... six or seven weeks ago ... we dined in some place or other on Unter den Linden, and he had an extra dish of carrots so as to gain the time to talk me over and bring me to reason. It was touching to witness his ill-success! He is absolutely incapable of commanding those he loves. If we were as bombastic as our brethren in Berlin, we'd nickname him 'The Good'! His eyes are blue.... I always feel I am having a glimpse of heaven when I look into them...."

The prince's cortège had reached the central streets of the little capital, and every window was crowded with the faces of those eager to see the procession go by. So Eduard replaced his shako, sat up straight, put on the facial expression his people might expect from him after the funeral, bowed to right and to left, studying meanwhile the countenance of the populace--in so far as that was possible through his mask of heroic moderation which (with his characteristic irony) he commended himself for having assumed.

"Broad heads, square rather than long, stubborn as are the middle Germans by temperament, their mistrust only overcome by degrees.... And yet loyal to the core, because their dynastic instinct is so strong.... Is there no end to this stately avenue leading to the castle? Ghastly! Three months' leave every year, otherwise I resign, as William so politely informed Bismarck.... There stands the worthy Tauernheim on the steps, ready to receive me! An end to these musings! To business!"

"His Highness is expecting Your Highness in the blue study."

"Where is the doctor?"

"He's waiting in the next room."

Eduard entered the hall, and motioned the old doctor back into the chair from which he had risen. Taking a seat himself, the prince removed his shako, sighed, and selected a cigarette.

"Everything went off smoothly--even the rain!"

"I'm sorry my professional duties should have kept me away from paying His Highness the prince my last respects...."

"Don't mention it, my dear Doctor! And now--are we alone? Are the doors shut? Or only closed?" Eduard got up to try the handles. Then resuming his chair, he continued: "You are amused? But there's always some Paul or Max or other, whose tall, black figure appears from nowhere, all unexpectedly, offering sherry--like Erda in Siegfried! Well, now that the black fate has fallen on me and nothing can throw it off, I am going to ask you the question which I had hoped my two brothers would save me from having to put."

The doctor looked gravely through spectacles which in no way dimmed the shrewdness of his eyes, and said in a matter-of-fact voice:

"I am sorry to say that the prince is rapidly going down hill. I told the late prince as much last March, and urged him to make ready. Last Sunday, after the terrible catastrophe, he had another attack in the night, which was only relieved by injections of camphor and morphine. Next morning his urine was loaded with albumin, as always after excitement. His pulse intermits every sixteenth or seventeenth beat. He has lost all interest in his work. Then you must remember that he is seventy-two years of age. Your Highness must realize that every day he is spared should be regarded as an unexpected gift."

Eduard got up, threw his cigarette end into the fireplace, strode over to the window, and lost himself in meditation. "Have I not read all this before? The crown prince, in the uniform of a hussar, spurs clinking, returning from a funeral, cannot bide the time for his father's death.... God, what would I not give this man if he could save my father for another decade--nay, merely for another three years!..."

Eduard turned to the doctor:

"Many thanks. I'll go in to see him." At the door he halted, and, turning again to the doctor, inquired casually, as it were: "No excitement, I suppose?"

"I must even urge that even those who have come to pay formal visits of condolence be not admitted to audience."

Huddled together, wearing a tunic of ancient cut, the old prince, in the half light of his spacious study, was sitting in front of the writing-table at which he had done his work for the last twenty years. He was pleased with his son's appearance, the dapper uniform becoming the slender figure well; and he was the more pleased seeing that hitherto he had never been able to persuade this youngest child of his to don the military livery unless directly commanded to do so.

"He's much smarter than he'd have us believe," thought the ageing prince as Eduard bent low to kiss his father's forehead.

"A fine brow," said Eduard to himself, "so nobly arched and furrowed...."

"Well," asked his father, "did it all go off decently, and in order? How did Adalbert behave?"

Eduard gave his report.

"So, he was not the first to be at the vault," murmured the father. "It would have been a handsome thing to do. And what about Mathilde?"

"Not a tear."

"Ah! I did not force him into that marriage. Tauernheim always thought it would have a soothing effect upon... He may have been right. But I'm against these marriages of cousins.... It's better to be childless than to breed idiots.... I imagined that, should Heinrich not feel inclined ... Stefan would provide the necessary progeny. Well, all that is over and done with now.... I am glad your mother did not live to see this day! Ah, Eduard my son, I am very weary. Are you going to take my place?"

Eduard, profoundly stirred, would have stroked his father's brow; but he took the proffered chair, placing his sword between his booted legs, and saying quietly:

"I would ask Your Highness to put at least some of the work on my shoulders."

The old man looked up, he saw the fair head, with its smoothly parted hair, bowed deferentially before him, he passed his hand over his own white locks, then he said:

"My dear Eduard, let's have none of that. We must speak to one another like two human beings. This may be the last time we shall ever talk together--or almost the last! As soon as possible I intend to pass the burden on to you: the whole burden when I go to join your mother. You are rather hypermodern, you know, and Tauernheim is anxious about the future; in fact, they are all worried about my death, now they know that Prince Eduard is to be the next ruler. For my part, I am tranquil, for I know you're a good fellow. Shall I assume Polonius airs with you, and teach you how to behave? You know the ropes as well as I do. Always have the people in mind--but don't try to play the twenty-first century game, especially in this little country. Be democratic, that goes without saying; but not Karl Marx, my dear Eduard, though I know you think a lot of him. Even Herwegh would be too strong meat. We are nothing but Liliputians here. Still, I don't need to go over all these things with you, and waste precious time. You've known my mind these ten years, and have seen eye to eye with me." He paused, making himself more comfortable in his arm-chair. "One thing, however, I have to ask, my dear Eduard. You see how quickly a motor car can be hurled down a mountain side. You must hasten to provide for the succession."

Eduard had determined not to disturb the serenity of his father's mood by disclosing any of his personal plans. He said quite casually, therefore:

"Of course, Papa, I'll marry. You have Leonore in mind?"

The old man smiled, and in a flash it was borne in on Eduard that death had indeed laid a hand on his father, for the eyes that were wont to twinkle with merriment, were now apathetic.

"The question is, rather, whom have you in mind."

"Raison d'état, my dear Father. We have often spoken of this before."

"Eduard?"

"Yes, Papa?"

"What sort of a time did you have on the yacht? I got the photo you sent--was it from Messina?"

Eduard fidgeted with his sword-belt.

"The 'Excelsior'? Oh, it was quite charming, those weeks on board."

"And did you gain your end? I doubt not that it was charming--but a capricious young woman, and five men hanging around--because Scherer of course had to count as a possible rival...."

The father had hoped great things from the cruise; for from what he had learned in Berlin, he could not but believe that this clever woman would bring the prince to the point of making an offer. Now that the disaster had changed the order of succession, he was seized with dread, knowing that the fate of the little country hung in the balance. The son, guessing what was passing through his father's mind, was resolved at all costs to save the invalid from agitation, for the dying ruler was now obviously not so much concerned about a morganatic marriage as about the lack of offspring competent to succeed, this implying an eventuality the old man had been so careful to guard against--the passing of the country into the hands of the collateral line. Eduard had made up his mind not to speak plainly, and yet deference for his father's wisdom and kindliness, made him unwilling to tell a direct lie. At the same time, foreseeing the question, he had vowed not to commit himself in words to anything which he would have to forswear after his father's death. He therefore evaded the immediate issue by rejoining:

"Yes, Scherer is a man of importance, and, besides, quite disinterested. He should be invited to advise us in financial matters."

"He's trying to fob me off," thought the father, and, obsessed by the thought that tomorrow would be too late, he asked without circumlocution:

"Did Scherer, too, win the lady's regard?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Eduard?"

"Yes, Papa?"

"Are you still free?"

"What just do you mean by that?"

"No commitments?"

"None," he exclaimed, while he thought: "Unfortunately, none as yet!"

The old man breathed more freely.

"But Father, heirs are not produced by love!"

"I need not worry, then?"

"He wants me to give him my promise," thought Eduard. "And I am determined not to give him any such thing." He smiled, and said politely:

"A difficult thing to guarantee, my dearest Father. Heinrich, for instance, had none in three years...."

"He's a good diplomatist," thought the father, "and it is a pity he cannot remain in the foreign diplomatic service." He, too, smiled, as he said:

"I feel confident you will do all that in you lies so that there shall be no change here...?"

Eduard shifted his sword-point an inch or so, hesitated, and then said:

"As a man of honour I can, of course, only speak for myself; and if I am called upon I will, when the time comes, make use of every power I possess...."

"The hours speed by," thought the old man, once more filled with anxiety, "and the youngster takes refuge in rhetoric! He needs to be decoyed--or at least his affections." He studied the bowed head, and the great flat surface of the writing-table seemed to him a symbol. He pushed back his chair; he needed to win his son's confidence, and yet he hesitated. At last he made up his mind. Almost in a whisper he said:

"Eduard, my dear boy, won't you promise me...?" The young prince trembled and, against his will, the sword clattered lightly as he held it between his knees.

"What is it, Papa?"

"You will see to it that there are legitimate heirs?..." He laid his gnarled hand across the table, towards his son; there was no tremor now. But Eduard did not raise his head; his eyes were fixed on the withered hand that lay there begging for one last gift which was at the same time the first it had ever been held out to receive. He was permeated with the realization of how intensely lonely was this dying man before him, an old man who had just laid two sons in the grave; at the same time he envisaged the future, as for three days he had envisaged it, with Diana at his side.... He rose to his feet; he took the old hand in his own: he kissed it: but he spoke no word.

"I have promised nothing," said the son to himself, as the world swayed purple before his eyes.

"He loves her," thought the father. "In that case I cannot bind him."

Silently, the two men looked at one another. Each knew that he had been understood.

The silence persisted for many seconds. Then the old man rose stiffly from his chair, looked about him, searching for his papers, sat down again, invited his son to do likewise, and pressed the bell. A manservant came to the door.

"Ask His Excellency Tauernheim to come in."

Another minute passed in silence. The young man's eyes rested lovingly on the old man, and Eduard marvelled that, after so many shattering blows, the veteran could put on the harness once more. The minister entered. The old monarch spoke:

"Please take a seat, my dear Tauernheim. Henceforward we shall always be three to discuss our plans--for Prince Eduard will want to take his bearings. Here, for instance, is the project for the Neuburg highroad. How does the matter stand...?"