He sent Baron Zeppstein to inquire how Her Serene Highness did, and whether she would permit His Royal Highness to do himself the honor of waiting upon her. As the answer was favorable, Casimir put on his most paternal face and went to Erica’s apartments. She was all fire and indignation.
“First,” she said, “I demand that Your Royal Highness send away that woman and that soldier.”
“Certainly, my child.” And he went to the door and himself ordered them away. As the woman was leaving he called her back. He returned to Erica. “Shall I send for your own maid?” he said. “This woman can fetch her. Yes?” And he told the woman to bring Ernestine forthwith.
“The peril is past,” he said, standing beside Erica and laying his hand on her shoulder. “I know what youth and hot blood are; I, too, have dreamed of happiness. But our rank means duty; to you it means Aloyse and the future of our ancient house. You think I’m harsh, child, but it is the kindness of experience.”
Erica looked scorn at him. “The grand-ducal house of Traubenheim,” she said, “has the throne. The ducal house has the private wealth. Yes, my dear uncle, you are, indeed, kind—to yourself and Aloyse. You know—none better—that your son is an ignorant, brutish fool. You know that this life here is dull and repellent—a hell on earth, a mockery of a life, a torture-pen of yawning and meaningless routine. Don’t flatter my intelligence, my dear uncle, by talking of your kindness and my duty.” She started up. “And sooner or later I shall go where love and life call me,” she exclaimed, passionately.
A ghost of a sardonic smile flitted over the yellow old face at this reference to Grafton. Then he said, sternly, but without harshness: “We shall send the heralds into the town this afternoon to proclaim the marriage for Monday. We shall announce in the Gazette that the Inheriting Grand Duke is ill, and that, because of your great love for him and his for you, the marriage has been hastened. And on Monday you will be married.”
The old man spoke with much dignity—the dignity of one all his life accustomed to being implicitly obeyed, of one descended from a long line of arbitrary rulers. And although Erica denounced and denied his command with all the strength of her soul, his words sounded to her like clods upon a coffin.
“As I said,” he went on, in a gentler voice, “the peril is past. That young adventurer, that young picture dealer from across the water”—he laughed—“his impudence was refreshing! I admire audacity; he almost deserved to win; I’m not surprised that you were almost swept off your feet. But he will not annoy you further. He’s gone, my child; he took himself away last night. So, feeling that you were no longer in danger of being annoyed and humiliated by his impertinences, I have removed the guards.”
“Then I am free?”
“It would be well,” said Casimir, with faint emphasis, “for you to keep within The Castle for the present; of course, you must have your walks under proper protection.”