A Dash for a Throne

by Arthur W. Marchmont

My first thought about the meeting was that I had misjudged, in an almost ludicrous manner, what the proceedings would be. My nerves were, no doubt, a little overstrung by the events of the past day or two: the dramatic exaggeration which had characterized almost every gesture and action of the Corsican, the actual evidence of my own eyes of the ruthless intensity of purpose with which these people pursued their plans, and my own exceeding conventional conceptions of what such a plot as this would be, had led me to anticipate some sort of more or less theatrical exhibition of conspiracy at the meeting. But there was nothing of the kind.

The men dropped in one after another, just as they might into any small social gathering, chatted with each other, grouped themselves in twos and threes, joked and laughed, discussed the latest scandal, exchanged notes on the newest play, and for a long time talked of nothing but the subjects on which any of them found a common surface interest. All of them made occasion to come to me and exchange a word or two: How I liked Munich, whether I had been to the opera, if I took any interest in the races, had I heard of the new military order from Berlin, and so on. Nothing more. Yet each contrived to convey that he was very glad to see me present, leaving me to infer anything more.

After a considerable time, the man whom von Nauheim had mentioned to me most often, Baron Heckscher, one of the wealthiest men in Munich, and the strongest leader in the scheme, came across and began to talk to me. He said he took the greatest interest in me; that it was a matter of great regret I had been so long absent from Munich and Gramberg; and that the honor of the great title I bore was an enormous responsibility for so young a man.

"But I am sure you will prove equal to it, Prince. Our conversations during these last few days have convinced me of this. You will play a great part in the kingdom and—who shall say?—perhaps in the Empire."

I murmured some conventional reply, and he added:

"There is only one thing against you. You will need wealth. The Gramberg estates should have gone with the title. I cannot understand my old friend's will. But that can be, and, of course, will be, rectified."

"I am not very ambitious of a State career," I replied, appreciating the proffered bribe.

"The State has need of all her strong men, Prince," he answered readily, "and she would be jealous of desertion; she cannot spare you. We old men have had our day, and it is part of our duty, and, despite the jealousies of some of us, part of our pleasure too, to mark out the rising men—the men worthy to rise, that is—and see that they have their opportunities. In the time that is coming you will have a magnificent part, for the actualities of power are not on, but around, the throne."

In this way he led adroitly round to the subject, and I knew that all his flattery was just so much verbiage. He had had no opportunities of telling whether I was a fool or a genius.

"There is a great deal of doubt about the future," said I sententiously; "but to have earned the good opinion of so shrewd a judge of men as yourself is much."