"Very well, then, there is nothing that need delay us. You are ready to go with me, of course?" Another detective glance, destined again to pass unrewarded by revelations.
"I am ready, Your Majesty—as always, I trust, when I am needed."
It was on Maximilian's tongue to say that it would be well if his Chancellor's readiness confined itself entirely to such occasions; but he shut his lips upon the words and walked by the old man's side in frozen silence.
It was not yet eight o clock, but the month of October had just begun, 287 and the sun having set an hour or more ago, the swiftly fading Rhaetian twilight had darkened into a starlit night. Though the day had been warm, there was now a crisp keenness in the air, and the Chancellor's coachman and groom had prepared themselves with high sable collars for their country drive.
The horses, which had been kept moving up and down the long straight avenue of the Bahnhofstrasse, were nervous and restive, and no sooner had the green-liveried footman shut the carriage door than they bounded off at a pace almost beyond control.
Both windows were closed, to keep out the chill, but Maximilian impatiently lowered the one nearest him, forgetting the Chancellor's tendency to rheumatism, and stared into the night. The railway station was on the outskirts of the town; and speedily passing the few warehouses and factories in the neighbourhood, they struck into the open country. There was a pungent scent of dying leaves on the breeze that blew in through the open window, and Maximilian knew that never 288 again could he inhale the melancholy fragrance of the falling year with out recalling this hour, so vivid with sensations.
He was desperately eager to reach the end of the journey, that the Chancellor might be confounded once for all; yet, as the horses hoofs rang tunefully along the hard roads, and landmark after landmark glided out of sight among tree-branches thickly laced with stars, he would have stayed the passing moments if he could. He wished to know, yet he did not wish to know. He burned to ask questions, yet would have died rather than put them.
It was a relief when Von Markstein spoke at last; a relief that brought a prick of resentment with it; for even the Chancellor had no right to break a silence that the Emperor kept.
"Your Majesty's anger is hard to bear. Yet I can bear it uncomplainingly, because I am confident that my reward is not far off. I look for it no further in the future than to-night."
"And I think that you will get your reward!" retorted the Emperor sharply.