“His Excellency, the Austrian ambassador!” announced the orderly.
The archbishop bowed and left the apartment.
“Your Highness,” began the Austrian, “his Imperial Majesty commands your immediate evacuation of Bleiberg, and that you delay not your departure to the frontier. This kingdom is a crown land. It shall remain so by the consent of the confederation. If you refuse to obey this injunction, an army will enforce the order. Believe me, Madame, this office is distasteful to me, but it was not avoidable. What disposition am I to submit to his Majesty?”
“Monsieur,” she said, “I am without choice in the matter. To pit my forces against the emperor's would be neither politic nor sensible. I submit.” There was not a sign of any emotion, no hint of the terrible wrath which lay below the surface of those politely modulated tones. But it seemed to her as she stood there, the object of all eyes, that some part of her soul had died. Her pride surmounted the humiliation, the pride of a woman and a princess. She would show no weakness to the world.
“Then, Madame,” said the ambassador, suppressing the admiration in his eyes at this evidence of royal nonchalance, “I shall inform his Majesty at once.”
When he had gone, Madame turned coldly to her stricken followers. “Messieurs, the fortunes of war are not on our side. I thank you for your services. Now leave me; I wish to be alone.”
One by one they filed out into the corridors. The orderly was the last to leave, and he closed the door behind him. Madame surveyed the room. All the curtains were drawn. She was alone. She stood idly fingering the papers which lay scattered on the table. Suddenly she lifted her hands above her head and clenched them in a burst of silent rage. A dupe! doubly a dupe! To-morrow the whole world would laugh at her, and she was without means of wreaking vengeance. Presently the woman rose above the princess. She sat down, laid her face on her arms and wept.
Fitzgerald stepped from behind one of the curtains. He had taken refuge there during the archbishop's speech. He had not the strength to witness the final humiliation of the woman he loved. He was gazing out of the window at the troops in the Platz when the door closed.
Madame heard the rustle of the curtain and looked up. She sprang to her feet, her eyes blazing.
“You?” she cried. “You? You have dared to hide that you might witness my weakness and my tears? You....”