VII
Three weeks passed—three weeks of constant companionship with Lee Clavering—almost exhausting her capacity for surprise and her cellar. Then, a wireless telegram—“Wife dead must see you immediately on arrival Berengaria Haffanauer.”
The Prince arrived—straight, thin, erect, broke—in his eyes the glance of the Austrian double-eagle, now selling at 99⁴⁴⁄₁₀₀ off for cash.
“Frau Gräfin.” He lifted her hand to his lips with princely courtesy. “Younger than when I first saw you. Couéing, they tell me—and billing, as well—is it not so?”
“Why are you here, Excellenz?”
“Because Austria needs you—I need you. We need you every hour and—every dollar. Will you marry me?”
“But I am engaged to L. C.”
“What of that? Let me state my case. I am about to rehabilitate Austria. My plans are simple but comprehensible by the meanest intelligence—only. I shall annex Germany, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Moldavia, Bolivia, Rumania, Pneumonia, the Jugo and Czecho brothers and all the Balking States. I shall create a Barnum, Bailey and Ringling Brothers Austria—bigger and better than ever.
“And you?” he went on, “you shall be—what you will—queen, empress, my m—er—morganatic wife. The Oesterreich shall shed its plumes for your adornment—if only you’ll buy a little preferred with a large bonus of very common.”
“Old stuff!” she exclaimed disdainfully. “I have the same plan. I shall do it myself—with the aid of my husband’s column—I, Marie, Countess Zattiany!”
“But, no,” he answered. “Return to Austria as Mrs. Lee Clavering and you’ll be cut by every true-born Austrich. We recognize no one without sixteen quarterings—and a few hangings and drawings.”
“What?” she stared aghast. “Mrs. Lee—? Shall I have to take my husband’s name? Isn’t the Lucy Stone League too powerful——”
“Not in Austria,” he said blandly. “No League whether of Nations or denominations is recognized.”
“I love him so!” she moaned. “But this changes everything. I will never give up the gräfinship. Moritz! I am yours!”
“Sign on the dotted line,” he said quietly.