Her recovered anger brought the color back to her face and gave her strength. Advancing rapidly towards the group, the members of which were gazing at her in supercilious surprise, she stood before them boldly erect and with her eyes shining—a thing of ineffable beauty.
“You will listen to what I have to say,” she cried in clear, ringing tones, and the whole assembly turned spellbound at such colossal temerity. “I know I am transgressing all the laws of this Court, but you may do your pleasure after I have finished.”
Several gentlemen came forward to beg her to be composed, but she waved them away with a fine gesture.
“I shall have my say. The Princess and I came here to a place of refuge—we are alone in the world with no man to help us. The common laws of hospitality demand that we be treated, at least, with some show of courtesy, but you have thought fit to ignore them. You have not only made me realize my dependence, but you have insulted my honor and questioned my motives. And now that you have learned from a vile paper the base insinuations of a base mind, you have accepted them as the truth, to afford you a little amusement in the dull circle of your lives.”
Madame de Martis had taken one of the girl’s arms and was hysterically appealing to her to leave the room with her.
“Pardon me, Madame, it is too late now. I have begun and I will finish what I have to say to these distinguished members of the Court.” Her voice had grown stronger; the expression on her face became as if a holy light had transfigured it. The women were terrified and the men admiringly interested; but neither moved a foot; they stood as if under a hypnotic influence.
“The gentleman to whom we owe our freedom is not here to speak for himself. If he were, you would not be so free with your insinuations. He did what I doubt any man here would have had the courage to do—he helped a dying man and two friendless girls. Without that help we should never be alive to-day, and I am proud to acknowledge the debt I owe him. You, gentlemen of Thuringia will, I am sure, appreciate my sentiments. And as for the lying gossip of that paper which you ladies of the Court have so eagerly accepted, you are welcome to make of it what you will.”
She turned proudly and marched majestically out of the room. But the door once closed, she staggered blindly up the stairs and fell fainting on her bed.
The spell over the assembled courtiers was broken. There succeeded a noise of talk such as that reception room had never heard since the castle was built. From all sides resounded indignant protestations, disclaimers and denials. Here and there came expressions of commiseration and even avowed desires for apologies. When, finally, the Baroness Radau’s voice could be heard, they quieted down. The Baroness would confer with the Dowager Duchess and the Comtesse Helène’s conduct adjudged. In the meantime, the ladies and gentlemen would do well to await Her Highness’s arrival.
When Helène recovered consciousness, she lay thinking dully of what had occurred. There was, no doubt, in her mind about the consequence of her act. She made up her mind not to wait for the royal verdict and its inevitable punishment. Anywhere was better than to be in this heartless place. She would rather live with servants and working people than with these so-called high-born men and women. She had money—thank God for that! She would use it whether it was rightly hers or no. She would go to Anna, her nurse, who was the only one who really loved her. Anna was good and wise. She would help her and guide her. She would know what was best to do.