“Ah, yes?”
“If, as we believe, the people are with you it is because you have gained a popularity which the absent one has forfeited. The greater fool he. Ludwig has got himself into an awkward corner; we know nothing of that. Let him extricate himself from the tiger’s den as best he can. It will be certainly difficult, perhaps impossible, if report speaks truly of the Teufelswald tiger’s methods. It might, perhaps, even be politic to send, not too soon, a small expedition to his rescue. It will look generous, and the mob loves generosity—in others—much as it disrelishes the quality inside its own skin. Who knows? Supposing our dear cousin should be rescued alive; he is Quixotic; terms may be made; at worst the expedition can do your Majesty no harm. But if the whisper of foul play should spread, as it would like wildfire, I would not wager on the crown being on your head that day week.”
Ferdinand had brightened as he listened; doubtless he was relieved at the necessity for blood-guiltiness being set aside. And he felt that the alternative plan was shrewd, too.
“My dear Eugen, you are wonderful,” he exclaimed, fervently. “Yes; we will follow your advice. Ludwig is scarcely in a position to be formidable, and it will be our fault if we let him become so. And in the meantime, we keep the Count where his knowledge cannot leak out?”
A look came over Morvan’s face which showed that the mild course he had advised did not altogether spring from his character. “It might be well,” he said, with a touch of brutal significance, “to shut his mouth for ever. Anyhow, having caught and caged the ferocious brute, it would be madness to let him out again. And—yes, his life is many times forfeit. He may as well pay the penalty. No harm in that. It would be a popular stroke.”
As the Count’s fate was thus shortly decided, a second and even yet more extraordinary message than that which had announced him was brought to the King. No less a person than the Princess Ruperta of Waldavia had arrived at the Palace and was urgently asking an audience. After the first sense of astonishment, Ferdinand came shrewdly to connect this visit with his cousin’s fate, though the relation was not easy to see. Morvan was of the same opinion, as, at the King’s invitation, he accompanied him to the room where the interview was to take place.
To Ruperta the first anxious glance at the two men was unprepossessing enough. It was, however, no time to be influenced by impressions. The desperate chance of saving her lover filled her thoughts, as, raising herself from a suppliant’s obeisance, she stood in her splendid beauty before Ferdinand. He, looking at her with eyes which could see nothing else, spoke a few words of gracious welcome, and inquired to what he owed the honour of her visit and how he could serve her, while Morvan’s dark, unfathomable gaze was unnoticed, as he stood speculating how this turn might be or not be to his advantage.
The story was soon told; it was already known to its hearers, but it was Morvan who was the quicker to comprehend that the teller was unaware of her lover’s real name and rank. It was astounding, for a while almost incredible, but it gradually forced itself upon his conviction. Ferdinand was puzzled, and a trifle less quick at divining the truth; he once had on his tongue the words which would have opened her eyes, but his confidant, alertly on the watch, interposed so significantly that he suddenly understood.
“It is to your Majesty that in my extremity I have turned,” poor Ruperta pleaded, perhaps with failing hope, as she looked at the usurper’s face with its utter absence of magnanimity. “There is no help or hope for me in my own land. If my father would befriend us, Rollmar would not let him; for the servant, I shame to speak it, though it is well known, is more powerful than his master. He hates me, and has marked down for death the man I love; it is the fate of all who cross his path.”
“He designed your hand, Princess, for our cousin Ludwig, unhappily lost or dead, did he not?” Ferdinand observed, disguising the object of his question under an appearance of sympathetic interest.