“Self-interest blinds us. I have nothing but pity for this king whose only crime is an archbishop; and I can not accept gain at his expense; I should blush for shame. Had I my way, he should die in peace. He has not long to live. The archbishop—well, we can not make kings, they are born. But there is one thing more: Over all your schemes is the shadow of Austria.”
“Austria?”
“Yes. The Colonel speaks of a power behind him. Bismarck looks hungrily toward Schleswig-Holstein. Austria casts amorous eyes at us. A protectorate? We did not need it. It was forced on us. When Austria assumed to dictate to us as to who should be king, she also robbed us of our true independence. Twenty years ago there was no duchy; it was all one kingdom. Who created this duchy when Albrecht came on the throne? Austria. Why? If we live we shall read.” He rose, shook his lean legs. “I have been for the most part neutral. I shall remain neutral. There is an undercurrent on which you have failed to reckon. Austria, mistress of the confederation. There are two men whom you must watch. One is the archbishop.”
“The archbishop?” The minister was surprised that the Marshal should concur with the Colonel. “And the other?”
“Your friend the Colonel,” starting for the door.
The minister smiled. “Will you not dine with me?” he asked.
“Thanks. But I have the Servian minister on my hands to-night. A propos, tell the Colonel that I decline Belgrade. I prefer to die at home.” And he vanished.
Von Wallenstein reviewed the statements of both his visitors.
“I shall watch Monseigneur the archbishop.” Then he added, with a half-smile: “God save us if the Marshal's sword were half so sharp as his tongue! It was careless of me to forget that I had shut him up in the cabinet.”
Meanwhile Beauvais walked slowly toward his quarters, with his saber caught up under his arm. Once he turned and gazed at the palace, whose windows began to flash with light.